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7 -^ 

Corner Work; 

OR, 

“LOOK UP AND LIFT UP.” 



“Jesus bids us shine 

With a clear, pure light, 
lyike a little candle 
Burning in the night. 

In the woild is darkness, 
So we must shine — 

You in your small corner, 
And I in mine'' 


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CINCINNATI : CRANSTON & CURTS. ^ ^ 
NEW YORK: HUNT & EATON. 

1892. 


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Copyright 

By CRANSTON & CURTS 


1892 . 


®D my 

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CONTENTS. 


The Feood, . . . 

CHAPTER I. 

Page. 

Mabee’s Peans, . 

CHAPTER II. 


Mabee’s Promise, 

CHAPTER III. 


Christie, .... 

CHAPTER IV. 


Lessons, 

CHAPTER V. 


Aunt Mary Jane, 

CHAPTER VI. 


Saved, 

CHAPTER VII. 



5 


6 


Contents. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Page. 

Rose’s Work, 71 

CHAPTER IX. 

“E’en Though it be a Cross,’’ 80 

CHAPTER X. 

A Happy Christmas, 89 

CHAPTER XL 

Bertha’s Letter, 98 

CHAPTER XH. 

The Wedding, 105 

CHAPTER XIH. 

Bertha’s Peans, 113 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Mabel’s School, 122 

CHAPTER XV. 

“Coals oe Fire,” 132 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Christie’s Home, 140 

CHAPTER XVH. 

Fresh Air, 155 

CHAPTER XVIII. • 

Another Wedding, 170 


Contents, 


7 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Page. 

Life at the Parsonage, 182 

CHAPTER XX. 

A Grand Failure and Several Successes, 197 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Picking up the Stitches, 214 

CPIAPTER XXII. 

Visiting Evelyn, 232 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

The Desired Haven, 248 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

The Convention, 263 






Corner Work. 


CHflPTEH I. 

THE FEOOD. 

AVE my baby!’’ cried a young mother, 
who was wading knee-deep in her sit- 
ting-room, trying to gather up a few of 
her most treasured articles. Woman- 
like, she valued them all. She had tied to the 
front door a tub, into which she had put the 
baby.* Then, just as the skiff came to her, she 
remembered John’s love-letters and her mother’s 
picture in the bureau-drawer. As she* waded 
back, the cat jumped into the tub, the frail 
cable broke, and the queer vessel, with its 
mixed freight, went floating out into the Ohio. 

‘‘Get in this boat. The water will soon be 
over your head!” shouted the men. 



9 


lO 


Corner Work. 


‘‘But my baby will be upset. Save my 
baby screamed the frantic mother. 

“ I ’ll go after him,” said a young man near. 
“Come, Hero!” and, waiting until a fine New- 
foundland sprang into the skiff, he rowed care- 
fully and swiftly after the tub. 

If you have seen the Ohio River only when 
it is going the even tenor of its way, you can 
not imagine how it can expand in a spring 
freshet. It covers fields, sweeps away little vil- 
lages, and rushes up the streets of Cincinnati 
and other of its large cities without leave or 
license. 

This flood was one that will never be forgot- 
ten. The lower part of Vernon was a lake in 
which the buildings that had not been washed 
away made queer-looking islands. On many 
of the roofs people were clinging, waiting for 
the skiffs that were plying through the streets. 
Boxes, chickemcoops, and barrels were floating 
down-stream, with dogs, cats, and chickens for 
passengers. 

Everything was forgotten now but the tub 
with the pretty baby, who was laughing over 
his ride. Then a hen flew by, and the fright- 
ened cat gave a spring. Over went the tub, and 
a groan went up from even those in peril as 
they saw the bright curly head disappear under 
the muddy water. 


The Flood. 


II 


‘‘Quick, Hero!^’ shouted Roy Elder, and out 
jumped the Newfoundland. 

Just as the child rose to the surface, a pile 
of floating boards struck his head, and he sank 
out of sight. Hero disappeared, too, and in an 
instant rose behind the timber with the baby in 
his teeth. The water and the dog’s shaggy coat 
were growing crimson from a wound in Willie’s 
head, but the dog was nearing the boat. Only a 
boy reared on the river could have held a skiff 
in that current, and dragged in the child; but 
Roy was able to do it. 

“Come, Hero!” he cried, seeing the dog 
ready to sink; “ you are hurt.” 

It took some help to get the dog in, and the 
boat almost capsized. The people on the shore 
blamed the boy for risking two lives to save a 
dog, but when it was found that Hero had been 
struck, and had dived after Willie with a broken 
leg, the sentiment changed in his favor. 

“That dog deserves to live! Three cheers 
for Hero and Roy !” cried the men. 

Hoosiers are enthusiastic people, and they 
made the Kentucky hills echo back their shouts. 

“Take them right up to our house,” said 
Roy. “ The water is in the garden, but it can’t 
reach the house. Mother will fix the cut in 
Willie’s head in no time.” 

Mrs. Smith’s husband was down the river, so 


Corner Wore. 


she was glad to be taken to the Elder home, 
which was noted for its hospitality. 

“You are needed here with your skiff, Roy. 
I’ll carry Willie,’’ said one of the neighbors. 

Roy helped the frightened little mother up 
the bank, and as he sprang again into his skiff 
a building not far away fell with a great crash. 

“ It’s the old mill !” screamed the men. “The 
water has taken it right off its feet !” 

Sure enough, the building had turned over 
like a toy house, and showers of flour-dust and 
grain were sifted over the water. 

“Father is there!” cried Roy, for it was Mr. 
Elder’s mill. The boy was quick-witted enough 
to row like the wind to the spot. 

“Father, are you alive?” he called, going 
among the falling timbers, regardless of his own 
danger. 

But there was no answer; and men came 
from every direction, forgetting their property, 
knowing the life of one of their oldest citizens 
was in danger. 

“Here I here!” cried a well-known voice, and 
another glad shout rang over the water when 
the old man was seen on the bank, running 
towards the mill. 

“Queer!” he gasped. “I wasn’t expecting 
this, but I ran up to see if mother was safe. 
She ’s been ailing, and the water is up to our 


The Flood. 


13 


back porch. But Pete Jones was in the engine- 
room. I ’m a ruined man 

There was no sympathy for property loss 
now. Every one went to work to find Pete. 
At last his body was discovered under the fallen 
walls. “ He never knowed what kilt him,” said 
one of his neighbors; and the men bared their 
heads to the cold spring wind as they carried 
the poor fellow home. 

Mr. Elder was so overcome with Peters 
death that Roy had to take him home. Mrs. 
Elder had bound up Willie’s head, and was now 
setting Hero’s leg. Evelyn, the eldest daughter, 
had fainted when she heard the mill fall, and 
she lay on the lounge, while little Bessie was 
rubbing her face, and Jack was bringing a glass 
of water, which he managed to upset down his 
sister’s neck. 

“You careless boy!” she cried, recovering 
quickly, while Jack darted away to see the mill. 

“O, pa, I thought you were killed!” she 
said, as Mr. Elder came in. 

“Nonsense! Don’t be so hysterical, Evelyn. 
You might have known I had n’t more than got 
to the gate. But, mother, I ’m a ruined man, 
and Pete is kdled,” said Mr. Elder, sinking into 
a chair. 

father, I must go to Mary Jones right 
away,” said Mrs. Elder. 


14 


Corner Work. 


“ I think I need some attention myself,’’ 
answered her husband; “and we may soon all 
have to go. The water is over the bank and up 
to the back porch. My garden will be ruined.” 

Mrs. Elder soon found she had enough to do 
at home, for the down-stairs carpet had to come 
up. Mr. Elder insisted that the river could not 
get any higher, and that the foundations were 
safe ; so the family must stay up-stairs. Mrs. 
Elder and Roy were doubtful about this being 
a safe plan; but Mr. Elder was so determined, 
there was nothing to do but to make the best 
of it. About midnight the river began to fall, 
and by morning the water was out of the house, 
and Mrs. Elder and Roy were at work trying to 
get the floors dry. 

“ If you had n’t cleaned house so soon, and 
hustled all the stoves out, we would have been 
better off,” growled Mr. Elder, who was in so- 
ciety a jolly, good-natured man, but at home 
cross and unreasonable. 

When he came back from the river hc found 
the sheet-iron stove up in the sitting-room, 
sending out an agreeable roar. This gave him 
a chance to scold about his wife’s moving a 
stove, with her weak back. 

“Roy helped me,” said Mrs. Elder, giving 
her big boy a smile. 

Evelyn had not been able to work, but was 


The Flood. 


15 


out early to see the flood. Besides her own 
household duties, Mrs. Elder had found time to 
visit poor Mrs. Jones, and comfort her as best 
she could. 

‘‘Mother, you need Mabel. Pm going to tel- 
egraph for her,^’ said Roy. 

“No, dear,’’ was the answer. “That would 
interfere with her graduating. She will be here 
in June, and give me a good rest. You know, 
Roy, she can not live where Evelyn does.” 

The boy uttered some rough words, which 
deepened the sad look in his mother’s eyes, and 
rushed off to help the men who were working 
over the fallen mill. 




chapter II. 

MABEIv’S PEANS. 

ABEL ELDER had heard all about 
the terrible freshet in Roy’s graphic 
boy fashion, her mother’s ‘‘ make- 
the-best-of-it” story, and overwrought 
newspaper accounts. 

‘‘I must go home. Uncle John,” she said. 

The Ohio is as peaceful as a baby now. 
It is so changeable, I expect the boats are stick- 
ing on the sand-bars. Your father has planted 
his garden, and your mother cleaned house. 
The mill is being rebuilt ; so you had better do 
as they advise, graduate,” was the answer. 

So Mabel was still in Chicago one evening 
late in June. Her cousin George had announced 
that he was going to bring company for dinner, 
and the girls were primping a little. 

“ Do you admire Mr. Richardson’s new 

i6 



Mabel's Plans, 


17 


book?’’ asked cousin Bertha, trying the effect 
of first a blue, and then of a pink ribbon. 

‘^Yes, the binding and the title, ‘Sweet- 
brier,’ ” replied Mabel, with a laugh. 

“He is a very promising young man,” said 
Bertha, warmly. 

“Then perhaps he will do more next time 
than simply kill space,” was the answer. 

“Well, he is considered very scholarly, if his 
verses are a little tame. But think of George 
inviting Frank Hays at the same time. Frank 
is a good fellow, but you know he makes soap 
for a living.” 

“ Is it good soap ?” questioned Mabel. 

“Yes, ‘Lightning Express,’ as he calls it, is 
splendid. But you know very well, Mabel, it 
is n’t considered an elegant business, unless a 
man has grown rich in it.” 

“ I think,” answered Mabel, “ a man that 
makes good soap has more right to live than 
one who makes bad poetry.” 

The ringing of the door-bell prevented 
Bertha’s defending the poet, and the girls went 
arm in arm down the broad staircase. George 
was waiting with the guests in the parlor be- 
low. Mr. Richardson was tall and elegant, with 
a classic, dyspeptic face, made more striking by 
the addition of gold-rimmed eye-glasses. 

“A literary dude,” decided Mabel. 


i8 


Corner Work, 


Young Hays had a bright, earnest face, and a 
manly way about him that made his cheap 
clothes have an honored look. 

‘‘ He ’s a success,” was Mabel’s mental com- 
ment. 

She was so absorbed in her future plans that 
she could look at the most eligible young men 
without a heart-flutter. They were simply char- 
acter studies, not possible lovers. Ever since 
her mother had read the lives of Dr. Judson and 
his noble helpers to Mabel, when she was a 
little child, the girl had dreamed of being a mis- 
sionary. After she had become a Christian, the 
dream was a fixed purpose, and her mother saw 
in it a field she herself would have chosen. 
She encouraged Mabel, and insisted that she 
should accept her uncle’s offer of an education. 
Life in this home was culture of the heart as 
well as the head, and it also meant giving to 
others home happiness, as the visitors soon re- 
alized. 

“You live in Indiana, I believe,” Mr. Rich- 
ardson remarked, when they had returned to the 
parlor after the luxurious six o’clock dinner. 
“I know something about the Hoosiers through 
Eggleston’s ‘ Hoosier Schoolmaster.’ And you 
are going to Japan, I understand.” 

“ You speak as if you thought I were needed 
in my own State,” said Mabel, a little too 


Mabel's Plans. 


19 


quickly for a hostess ; but uncle John interposed 
with — 

When I was young it was n’t ‘ pussy wants 
a corner ’ as soon as school was over, but girls 
staid home and made quilts, aud got ready to 
be good housekeepers. It ’s no scheme of mine 
to let Mabel go so far.” 

“We will have her two years while she 
learns to kill or cure,” said George. 

“O, you are going to study medicine?” said 
Mr. Richardson. This reminded him of some- 
thing he saw in Europe, for he never lost an 
opportunity to relate his foreign experience. 
Then Bertha captured him by praising his new 
book, as grateful to an author as compliments 
to a mother on her new baby, and generally as 
truthhil. 

Mr. Hays and Mabel then had an opportu- 
nity for a little chat, as they stood by the bay- 
window. 

“ You are choosing just the life I should have 
liked,” he said. 

“We belong to the same household, I see,” 
replied Mabel, meeting his earnest gaze with a 
smile. “ I want an opportunity to work for 
Christ.” 

“So do I,” replied Mr. Hays; “but I have 
found it in a different way from my early plans. 
My father died six years ago, and I had to leave 


20 


Corner Work. 


school and help support the family. I tried 
every place to find a situation, and at last went 
to one of father’s rich friends, thinking he would 
put me in his bank at once. ‘ Is there anything 
you can do well ?’ he asked. ‘ I can make good 
soap,’ I answered, thinking he was joking. ‘I 
used to help mother when we were on the farm.’ 
‘ Very well,’ he said, ‘ I will advance fifty dollars, 
and take my pay in soap. Do n’t look so dis- 
gusted, young man. There are worse trades 
than keeping the world clean. Do even a small 
thing well, and you will be a success.’ I fol- 
lowed his advice, and soon began to make a 
living, and find many opportunities for Christian 
work besides. My ‘corner’ may be a small 
one, but every one can not work in the front 
ranks.” 

“I confess I always longed for great things,” 
answered Mabel. “ I remember being sent 
home because I failed to write my first compo- 
sition. I hurried to uncle’s office, expecting his 
help. ‘What do you know about?’ he asked. 
‘ O, birds and flowers and mice,’ I answered, 
‘ but nothing about things they make composi- 
tions of.’ ‘Sit down and write me all you can 
think about mice,’ he said. I did, and was 
much surprised when he said that was a com- 
position.” 

“And what did your teacher say?” asked 


Mabel's Plans. 


21 


Mr. Watson, who had been listening to Mabel’s 
story. 

‘‘O, she smiled when she read it, and the 
next day put me in a higher class.” 

‘‘Good,” said her uncle. “The real artists 
are those who do best with common things. 
There is that Angelus, he said, looking up at the 
fine engraving ; “ Millet tried to paint goddesses, 
and failed, but when he pictured a man and 
woman saying their evening prayers over their 
work, he made himself famous.” 

“ It is a pity he received only three hundred 
dollars, instead of the hundred and ten thou- 
sand it sold for at last,” remarked Mr. Rich- 
ardson. “ Can you call it a success when he 
died poor?” 

“Yes, because he was rich in leaving the 
world a great gift. But only a genius can make 
himself famous with a skylark, a daisy, or a 
dandelion — ” Here Mr. Watson paused, the 
flushing face of his guest reminding him the 
young poet before him had chosen “Life,” “Im- 
mortality,” and kindred topics, so he added: 

“ While our Mabel graduated herself last week 
on ‘The Limitations of the Human Will.'” 

“ I own I know more about mice,” said Ma- . 
bel,. laughing ; “but I did not want to be the first 
college graduate to write on a topic that ordi- 
nary mortals could understand.” 


22 


Corner Work, 


Just then some one called Mr. Watson, and 
he left saying: 

“Young people, the beginning and ending 
of my sermon is, make the most of little oppor- 
tunities. Wesley had the world for his parish, 
but most of us have only a little ‘corner’ for 
which we are responsible.” 

“Go make thy garden fair as. thou canst, 

Thou workest never alone ; 

Perchance he whose plot is next to thine 
May see it, and mend his own,” 

quoted Mrs. Watson. 

“Sill’s poem on ‘Opportunity’ hasn’t much 
jingle, but it has helped me,” said Mr. Hays. 
“You know he saw a soldier break his sword 
and throw it away because he did not have the 
shining blade of the king’s son. Afterwards the 
prince, wounded and weaponless, picked up the 
broken thing and won the battle with it.” 

“A fine sentiment, but I believe the prince 
could have done better with a good sword. One 
can not be too well equipped,” said the student. 

“True, but some people spend the best of 
their time hunting up and sharpening tools,” 
answered the business man. 

Mr. Richardson seemed to think his opponent 
hardly worthy of his steel, so begged Bertha for 
a song. While she was granting his request, 
Mabel sat looking thoughtfully at the Angelas. 


Mabel's Plans. 


23 


It was no sacrifice for her to be a missionary. 
She gloried in great things, and hated a com- 
mon humdrum life. She was thinking of this 
when her uncle opened the door and called^ 
“Mabel, I want you.’’ 

As she stepped to his side he said tenderly : 
“ Be brave, my child, and hope for the best. 
We will start to-night.” 

Mabel took the piece of yellow paper he held, 
and read : 

“ Mother is dying. Come at once. Roy Ki<de;r.*’ 



CHAPTEf^ III. 

MABEL’S PROMISE. 

T was the next evening before Mabel 
and her uncle reached Vernon, as the 
last part of their journey had to be 
taken in the old stage. During the 
intervening hours Mabel had bitterly reproached 
herself for not going home sooner. Framed in 
with a background of hills, Vernon made a pretty 
picture from the river ; and Mr. Elder^s home 
on the bank, half-hidden by trees and climbing 
roses, seemed a little paradise. But Mabel saw 
only a small, dull town, and in the home a 
place of discord. She had spent the greater part 
of her life at her uncle’s beautiful Chicago home, 
and its peaceful atmosphere seemed her native 
element. To do Mabel justice, she appreciated 
and dearly loved her mother, and often begged 
to stay at home and share her burdens. 

‘‘Ko, dear,” was always the answer. ‘‘Your 
24 



Mabel's Promise. 


25 


father is not able to educate or even clothe you, 
the mill brings in so little. When you finish 
school you can teach and help the children. Be- 
sides, Evelyn is better when you are away. You 
shall not have the trials I have as long as I can 
help it.’^ 

When Mabel came home on a visit, with the 
burning desire to be a missionary, her unselfish 
mother smothered her own longings, and said : 

‘‘We gave you to the Lord before you were 
born, and I am willing to give you for a work I 
would gladly have entered myself. If father 
does not object, you can go.’’ 

Mr. Elder gave an ungracious consent, add- 
ing his opinion that missionaries were worse 
than heathen, because they were fools as well as 
sinners ; but Mabel understood her father, and 
kissed him and told him she knew he would re- 
joice over her success as much as any one. At 
heart he was kind and true, but for years he 
had been fighting a battle that had brought to 
the surface all that was unlovable in his nature. 
He had been in partnership with a leading 
Church member, being at that time himself a 
devoted Christian. His partner had proved a 
fraud, and had wronged him out of most of his 
property. From that day Mr. Elder refused to 
enter a church, and delighted to style all 
Church-members “ranting hypocrites.” 


26 


Corner Work. 


In many ways he was a devoted husband, 
but in matters of religion he became intolerant. 
Mrs. Elder was much his junior, and bore it all 
with a sweetness and patience that bordered on 
weakness, hoping and praying for her husband 
and her unlovable step-daughter, Evelyn. 

Since the freshet, Mrs. Elder had been fail- 
ing in health, and at last had been prostrated by 
a sudden violent fever. This Mabel learned from 
her father, who was waiting at the gate, and who 
was looking old and worn. 

‘‘She is alive, but there is no hope,’’ he said, 
as he returned his daughter’s kiss. 

The children came flying down the path, 
nearly smothering Mabel with kisses, while they 
asked what she had brought them, and told her 
how sick poor ma was, in the same breath. 
Hardly stopping to speak to Evelyn, Mabel hur- 
ried to her mother’s room. A kind neighbor 
was fanning the sick woman, who lay in the last 
stages of exhaustion. But the pale eyelids 
opened, and the drawn lips parted in a smile, as 
Mabel knelt by the bed. 

“ My precious daughter !” the mother whis- 
pered. “ Thank God you are in time.” 

“O, mother, don’t leave us,” sobbed Mabel. 

“It will be sweet to rest, my child,” was the 
faint answer. “ I am not afraid. I know whom 
I trust — but my work, Mabel! I can not die 


Mabel's Promise. 


27 


until you promise to do what I have failed to 
do. Your father must be led back to the fold, 
and the children saved. I see it now; I’ve been 
too cowardly. No one has a right to make 
another neglect religious duties. I ought to 
have had prayers with the children, and gone to 
church. Roy has gotten into bad company, and 
he and his father do not understand each other. 
Promise me you will save Roy.” 

“ I ’ll try. Indeed, I will, mother. I wish I 
had never left you,” answered Mabel. 

“ You did as I wished, and you are better 
fitted to lead the children now. Be patient with 
poor Evelyn, and your poor, dear father, and 
Roy — ” 

Even in broken whispers the exertion of 
speaking was too much for the dying woman. 
She struggled for breath, and Mabel lifted her 
in her arms, and pillowed the tired head on her 
bosom. The change came so gently and sud- 
denly that it was moments before Mabel realized 
she was motherless. Then she had no time to 
indulge in her bitter sorrow, or to reproach herself 
for taking all her mother’s last moments, for her 
father was almost wild with grief, cursing first 
himself and then God for his great loss. Evelyn 
went from one hysteric spell into another, and 
Jack and Bessie clung to Mabel in frightened 
sorrow. Roy shut himself in his room, and 


28 


Corner Work. 


refused to see any one, or do anything; and all 
night long, as Mabel heard the tramp of his rest- 
less feet, she prayed that his mother in death 
might do for Roy what she had not been able to 
do in life. 

Uncle John was MabePs greatest comfort, 
though his own heart was crushed with sorrow 
over the loss of his only sister. As is the cus- 
tom in villages, everything was done by kind 
neighbors ; and it was not until they were gone, 
and the precious form had been left in the hill- 
side cemetery, that Mabel realized her great 
sorrow. After Uncle John had gone, Evelyn 
made her feel what her future was to be. 

“When are you going back?’’ Evelyn asked 
a few days after the funeral. Her tone said so 
plainly, “I hope soon,” that Mabel found it hard 
to say: 

“I’m going to stay here, and help you with 
the children. I promised mother I would.” 

“ Well, I shall make them mind. Mother 
was too easy with them. I hope you under- 
stand I am the daughter of the house,” Evelyn 
said, in her most provoking tone. 

Mabel checked the quick reply that rose to 
her lips. She must keep peace with' her sister 
at any cost. Now, after Evelyn found her father 
did not mean to keep a hired girl, she really 
wanted Mabel to stay, but she intended to assert 


Mabel's Promise, 


29 


her rights, as she said to herself. It was nearly 
supper-time, but Evelyn went on reading in her 
hammock under the maples, leaving Mabel to 
go to the kitchen. 

There she found Roy building a fire. 

“Ev. always knows how to rub the fur the 
wrong way,” he said, as he noticed MabePs 
troubled look. 

‘‘You must do with me as Uncle John did 
to break me of frowning,” said Mabel, with a 
smile. “He would say, ‘There’s something on 
your face;” and, after rubbing it with my hand- 
kerchief, I would remember it might be a 
frown.” 

“ You ’ll find enough here to keep you 
smoothing out your face all the time,” growled 
Roy. 

“I’ve found a good brother, who can make 
a splendid fire,” replied his sister, with a loving 
smile. 

“ You are the only one who treats me white, 
now mother is gone ; and you ’ll soon be off,” 
Roy said, sadly. 

“ No; I ’m going to stay all the time, and do 
all I can to fill mother’s place. Will you help 
me, Roy?” 

“You’re mighty good, Mabe, but I can’t stay 
here long. I ’m not a river-dog. I want to go 
to college, and have a chance. If father was n’t 


30 


Corner Work. 


afraid of the parson’s religion, I could study 
with him and help at the mill, too ; he said so. 
But Hero and I will go and hunt our fortunes,” 
said Roy, stroking the great dog, who wagged 
his tail in assent. 

‘‘ You will break my heart if you do,” said 
Mabel. haven’t studied Greek, but in Latin 
and other things I can get you ready as well a5 
any one. Shall we begin to-night?” 

‘‘ No ; I ’ve promised to meet the boys. There 
is a party over the river,” was the answer that 
brought tears to his sister’s eyes. 

“O, Roy, so soon after mother’s death!” she 
said, reproachfully. 

“ I felt reckless when I promised. I ’ll stay 
with you this time,” was the reply. 

Mabel’s face brightened ; but before she 
could speak, Bessie came in crying: 

‘‘Jack threw me down in the water.” 

Jack came sneaking in, expecting to be pun- 
ished ; but Mabel kissed him, and said: 

“Now, kiss little sister, and tell her you are 
sorry.” 

“But I ain’t. She dared me,” grinned Jack. 

“O, think how ma would feel if she knew 
how you were acting I Do n’t you want to be 
good and go to heaven?” went on Mabel. 

“ No 1” was the decided answer ; “ but I want 
ma,” — this last with a quivering little lip. 


Mabel's Promise, 31 

‘‘ Well, if you are good you will see her some 
day,’^ said Mabel. 

“ I ’m some sorry I ducked Bessie. I won’t 
make her cry if you don’t like it, ’cause you 
made me a little pie yesterday.” 

Mabel sighed over this partial repentance, 
and set the children to helping about supper. 

Mr. Elder came in wearily enough, but 
brightened when he saw the good supper. 

“I guess an education hasn’t spoiled you,” 
he said, as he buttered the tempting waffles,” 
and Mabel felt repaid for her efforts. She was 
very tired, but she got out the Latin books, after 
the dishes were put away, and soon forgot 
everything in the pleasure of teaching her bright 
brother. 

‘‘What are you children doing with books 
this hot night?” Mr. Elder said, coming in at 
nine o’clock. 

“ Father, I am going to teach Roy some of 
the things I learned, since you can’t spare him 
to go to school,” explained Mabel. 

“ That was well enough for you, but Roy 
must soon run the mill. He must let those 
plagued books alone. I won’t have it!” and the ^ 
old man turned away in a great rage. 

Roy slipped off to bed without a word, and 
Mabel went to her room to cry herself to sleep. 
The next morning she opened Roy’s door to call 


32 


Corner Work. 


him, and found the bed had not been opened. 
On the table lay a note, which read : 

“Dkar Maeeu, — I am sorry to leave you, but I can’t 
stand father another day. I ’ll write when I get settled, 
but I will not come back. Be good to Hero. Good-bye. 

“Roy.” 

Poor Mabel ! She had promised to save her 
brother, and now, perhaps, she would never see 
him again. 



CHAPTEf^ IV. 

CHRISTIE. 

OW I hate to work for other people 
Christie Holland, the domestic in 
Uncle John’s family, said, standing in 
the middle of a very disorderly 
kitchen. The evening before she had spent as 
much time as possible clearing off the dining- 
room table, and had listened to the conversation 
between Mr. Hays and Mabel in the back parlor. 
She was thinking now with a rebellious heart 
of her “corner” in life. She had that most trying 
of positions, an in-between place in the family. 
She was a farmer’s daughter, and in the country 
she knew no social distinction ; but as maid-of- 
all-work in a Chicago family she was constantly 
on the alert to have her feelings hurt. And not 
without reason; for whether she was treated as a 
companion or a servant, depended on the family 
3 33 



34 


Corner Work. 


being alone or having visitors who expected the 
domestic “ to know her place.’’ Christie almost 
envied colored Mollie, who came to wash and 
iron and clean; for she was perfectly satisfied 
with the basement, while Christie’s aspirations 
were higher up. She now had a new grievance 
to think over. It happened that she had at- 
tended the srame district school, when a child, 
with Frank Hays. He shook hands cordially 
with her the evening before, but Mr. Richard- 
son stared in rude surprise at this greeting. 
No one thought to introduce the poet, so Chris- 
tie felt her ‘‘place” keenly enough. She was 
brooding over this when she heard a knock at 
the basement door. “ Bother !” she growled^ 
“ I ’ll soon dismiss that tramp,” and she opened 
the door with, “ We do n’t want any — ” when 
she saw Frank Hays. 

“Dear me! I was just going to tell you it 
was too late for breakfast,” laughed Christie, her 
pretty face growing crimson as the young man’s 
keen eyes took in her kitchen. 

“ My boy was busy this morning, so I am 
delivering the soap,” he said. “ You want some, 
I believe ?” 

“ I guess you think this floor needs it. “ I ’ve 
been dreaming over opportunities, and I sup- 
pose you would say my ‘ corner ’ is just here. 
I w^ant to teach. I hate working out, so my 


Christie, 


35 


life is a complete failure,’’ was Christie’s an- 
swer. 

“ Not if you do your work as unto the Lord,” 
said Frank, earnestly. 

“ O, I do n’t. I work just to get my wages, 
and if Mrs. Watson was n’t the kindest woman 
in the world she ’d turn me off. But I am really 
trying to be a Christian. I wish I could be a 
deaconess or a sister of charity. I would sac- 
rifice everything in the world to be really of 
some use,” said Christie, and the tears that 
came to her eyes testified to her sincerity. 

“I will pray for you, Christie,” Frank an- 
swered, gently. “I do n’t believe God puts one 
of his children, even if it is on a sick-bed, where 
he can not help others. Here is the address of 
a young girl who stood up for prayers in the 
mission last night. I want you to see her and 
help her as only a working-girl can. And about 
your own place in life, suppose you take my 
way of spelling disappointment with an h, I 
do n’t believe you would mind working out if you 
felt it was his appointment — God’s appointment I 
mean,” and with a smile the young man was gone. 

Christie dropped a few tears on her dirty 
apron, and then leaned against the crowded table 
and prayed for help. 

‘‘ I ’ll try to make this kitchen a battle-field 
for God,” she resolved. 


3 ^ 


Corner Work, 


One of Christie’s failings was to let the fire 
go out at the wrong time after the winter range 
was not in use, so of course there was no hot 
water for the dishes. But she went to work 
with a will this morning, and soon had hot water, 
and for once washed the dishes in a proper 
way. Ordinarily, any one going through her 
part of the house when she considered her 
work finished would have pronounced her a 
perfect housekeeper ; but alas ! behind the flour- 
barrel and out of sight there were many neglected 
corners. This particular morning they were 
swept and cleared of their rubbish, and the dish- 
towels were left white and clean. One of her 
duties was answering the door-bells, but she had 
a habit of not hearing when that was most con- 
venient. This morning not even that task was 
forgotten. 

“ I know mother made this cherry-pie, 
George said at lunch. 

‘‘There you are mistaken,” said Mrs. Wat- 
son. “ You have had good luck with your baking 
to-day, Christie. If you do not get home in time 
this afternoon I will get dinner.” 

Here was an opportunity to hunt up the 
young girl whose address she had. Again 
Christie did faithful work in her kitchen, and 
then put her pleasant bedroom in good order. 

The house where Rose Andrews lived, Chris- 


Christie, 


37 


tie found, was one of the most elegant mansions 
on the North Side. The servants’ door was 
opened by a smart-looking young man in livery. 

‘‘ Rose is the nurse, but she receives her com- 
pany in our dining-room,” he said, as he led the 
way to the dark little room where some unin- 
viting food still stood on the table. 

In a few moments a pretty, refined-looking 
young girl came in, and Christie introduced her- 
self with some embarrassment. 

“You are very kind to call. I hn a stranger, 
so know few people, and we are not allowed to 
have company here. But I think Mrs. Everts 
won’t mind your coming.” 

“I would n’t like that,” said Christie. “Mrs. 
Watson is very good about my company.” 

“ It is hard to work for very rich folks,” said 
Rose.^ “ One has to eat what happens to be left 
up-stairs. The last place I slept in an unplas- 
tered attic all winter ; but I have a nicer place 
here than the housekeeper, for I sleep in the 
nursery with Charlie. I am glad to get light 
work and good wages, for I have to help ma and 
the children, and I do n’t have to wear my cap 
except when we have company or I go out with 
Mrs. Everts.” 

“ I ’m glad you are going to the mission,” 
said Christie, abruptly, remembering the object 
of her visit. 


38 


Corner Work. 


‘‘ I Ve only been once. Mr. Hays made me 
cry over the story of the Good Shepherd. It 
made me wish to be good too; but it is so far 
to that little church I can ’t go often,’’ was the 
answer. 

“ O, come to our church,” urged Christie. 
“ It is so near, and we have such lovely young 
people’s meetings.” 

“O, they wouldn’t want a nurse-girl,” said 
Rose. “ It ’s the loneliness of it that makes 
working out hard for country girls, Christie. 
The other girls here are Catholics, and I won’t 
go where they do. I stay with Charlie most of 
the time, except my evening out.” 

“ Won’t you go with me to meeting to- 
night?” begged Christie. 

The color on Rose’s pretty face deepened as 
she answered : 

‘‘ Not to-night. I ’ve promised to meet a 
friend in the park.” 

‘‘Do you meet him there?” Christie asked 
in a shocked tone, for she had been trained by a 
good, old-fashioned mother. 

“I wouldn’t have him come to this base- 
ment if I could,” answered Rose. “ He is a gen- 
tleman, and has been kinder to me than any 
one else in Chicago. He has a friend where we 
can go if the weather is bad. But I am sure I 
do n’t know why I am telling all this to a 


Christie. - 


39 


stranger,” and Rose stopped, with an annoyed 
look on her flushed face. 

‘‘ We will be friends, dear Rose ; we are both 
lonely,” Christie said, taking Rose’s hand in a 
way the younger girl could not resist. 

I ’m going to take Charlie to the park, and 
if I see him I will come by for you this even- 
ing,” promised Rose. 

“Where’s my Rose?” a sweet voice asked, 
and in came a lovely boy. 

“Isn’t he sweet? He’s only three, but he 
knows ever so much,” and Rose kissed the little 
fellow tenderly, while Christie said good-bye 
and turned homeward. 

That evening Christie waited for Rose, but 
she did not come. It was a warm evening, and 
many of the young people had left the city, 
so the meeting dragged along with spiritless 
songs, powerless prayers, and embarrassing 
pauses. 

“ Do n’t let the time go to waste,” the leader 
said, simply because he was not prepared to say 
anything more original. 

“ Perhaps this is my work,” thought Chris- 
tie, and before she could become frightened she 
arose and said: “I never have spoken in this 
meeting before, but I have a friend who needs 
help. Please pray for her, and for me too.” 

Christie ended with a little sob in her throat 


40 


Corner Work, 


as the thought of her own unworthiness came 
over her. 

In a moment Bertha was on her feet with a 
sweet testimony of God’s love, and others felt 
the spirit and responded quickly. And the sing- 
ing! People going by hardly supposed there 
were only twenty young people in the church, 
such a volume of happy song came forth when 
some one started a hymn as the expression of 
his own joy or desire. 

For a wonder, Bertha remembered to wait 
for Christie, who had stopped to speak to a 
stranger, who looked also out of place among 
these fashionable young people. Bertha came 
up, too, and introduced a number of the girls, 
and Anna Evans went home with a happy heart. 

“ I dreaded to go,” she said to her mother, 
‘‘ but it was such a blessed meeting, and every- 
body was so friendly. City folks are not proud, 
as I supposed.” 

She little thought that but for Christie she 
would have gone home unnoticed. 

As Bertha and Christie walked home together 
they met two young people coming from the 
park. 

‘‘I’m sorry we must meet Mr. Hartwell. 
Papa hates to have me even speak to him,” 
whispered Bertha. “I wonder who that sweet- 
looking girl is?” 


Christie, 


41 


“ O, Bertha, it ’s Rose,’’ and Christie told of 
her visit that afternoon. 

“ We must save her, Christie,” Bertha said. 
“ I wish Mabel were here, for she would know 
just what to do.” 



CHflPTEfJ V. 

I.ESSONS. 

T first Mabel’s heart was so paralyzed 
by its sorrow she did not realize its 
bitterness. But as the days dragged 
into weeks and months she found the 
loss of her mother, Roy’s absence, and her father’s 
displeasure, almost more than her young heart 
could endure. Added to this, her life seemed 
‘wasted in exasperating trifles, when she had 
hoped to spend it in leading others to God. 

‘‘Any one could wash these dishes,” she would 
say to herself, while rebellious tears salted the 
hot water. “ But not every one could study 
medicine and be a missionary.” 

Then Bessie would come in with a bruised 
finger, or Jack with torn clothes, and Mabel 
would forget everything but these motherless 
children. 



42 



Lessons. 


43 


Jack oflfered to help in his rough way. 

“I helped ma lots,’^ he said; and Mabel 
soon found the children saved her a good many 
steps. True, they quarreled, and sometimes 
came to blows over their work, and often made 
more trouble than it was worth ; but Mabel was 
thankful to have them near her, and thus be 
able to win their hearts. Evelyn insisted on 
‘‘managing” everything, as she called her ad- 
vice and criticism, which at times almost drove 
Mabel wild. 

The struggling girl had one helper. Her 
mother’s most intimate friend lived on the hill 
near. At first Mabel visited Mrs. Lewis often, 
because she was an invalid, and enjoyed the 
young girl’s company. But Mabel soon went 
for her own good. The view from the Lewis 
hill was the finest anywhere near, and the hills 
and the pretty town and the winding river rested 
the tired girl. But, better than all, the sufferer 
had gotten on the sunny side of her trials, and 
so could comfort others. 

“ Mabel, you used to keep a journal when 
you were a liftle girl,” she said one day. 

“ Yes, I found it in the attic the other day ; 
mostly blank pages.” 

“ Write all your trials and blessings there, for 
there are some you can not talk over even with 
me. I once saved myself many bitter thoughts 


44 


Corner Work. 


that way. Afterwards I burnt the book, ashamed 
to see that what I had considered heart-crushing 
burdens were only little trials every one must 
have/’ 

So Mabel found real comfort in pouring her 
heart out in her little book, and a few of its 
pages will best tell her heart-history just then. 

EXTRACTS FROM MABEL’S JOURNAL. 

August lo^ 1 8 — . O, for a cold drink ! We 
do n’t have ice, and we bring the water in by 
the bucketful, because the old iron pump has 
to be primed, and it ’s almost worth one’s life to 
pump. Then it is so hard to keep things from 
spoiling even in the cellar. At meal-time the 
milk and butter must come up at the last mo- 
ment, the same instant the bread is cut and 
things brought in piping hot from the kitchen. 
I ’m sure to let something get hot or cold. 

Poor hired girls!” I said one day. ‘‘How 
do they manage it?” 

“ Mother always did, and without having the 
table ^swarming with flies,” said Evelyn. 

“ You helped then. You know you did,” put 
in Jack. 

“ That ’s no concern of yours,” answered 
Evelyn, loftily. “These children are too saucy 
to live. If you do n’t correct them I will,” and 
with that she gave Jack a box on the ear. 


Lessons. 


45 


He ’s a good little fellow in so many ways I 
gave her a piece of my mind and Jack three 
cookies, all of which was unwise. I am espe- 
cially tried with Evelyn now because of her 
dyspepsia. First she wants oatmeal, then soft- 
boiled eggs, then those boiled two hours. Some 
days she will starve until she is too weak to sit 
up, and then she will eat rich food until she has 
a sick headache. She never appears until we 
are through breakfast, and if the coffee is cold 
or overboiled she is out of sorts. Sometimes I 
have grace to bear all this, and again I forget 
myself and say things which bring tears of sor- 
row and shame when I remember whose disciple 
I am. She never forgets to say in her aggra- 
vating way : “ O, you are a saint, I know. How 
nice it is to have an angel in the house !” 

The bread question is one of my trials. 
Evelyn wants it stale, and father always fresh, 
and everybody wants it better than I make it. 
How did mother manage to have it always act 
the same way ? I believe at times my yeast is 
possessed. 

August 12. Evelyn has been really sick to- 
day, and I have nearly run my feet off, making 
mustard-plasters, getting hot and cold water, 
and keeping the children quiet. But it has been 
a happy day, for I have been able to cling to 
Christ as I seldom do of late. 


46 


Corner Wore. 


‘‘ Mabie, why do n’t you answer back when Ev. 
sauces you?” Jack asked, as I returned to the 
kitchen after Evelyn had been unusually trying. 

“Jack, it is because I try to be like Jesus,” 
I said. Then I felt obliged to add: “ But some- 
times, you know, I do n’t try hard enough, or 
forget to ask him to help me, so I am cross too.” 

“ Not often,” he said, which made my praise- 
hungry heart leap for joy. 

“ Ma used to talk to us about him,” said 
Bessie. 

“Yes, children,” I said. “She loved him, 
and is with him now. Won’t you try and love 
him too?” 

“ I can ’t love any one I never saw,” said 
Jack, stoutly. 

“ But you love cousin Bertha, and you have 
never seen her,” I said. 

“ Yes, but you have told us lots about her, 
and read her funny letters out loud, and she ’s 
sent me heaps of pretty things,” went on Jack. 

“ Well, I can tell you beautiful things about 
Jesus, and read you his words, real letters to 
you; and he’s given you a hundred times more 
than Bertha has. He ’s given you your eyes 
and ears, and all this lovely world, and himself 
too. I should think you would love him.” 

“ I might try,” he said, and the children 
went out with sober little faces. 


V 


Lessons, 


47 


I happened to look up, and father was stand- 
ing in the other doorway. I think there were 
tears in his eyes ; any way, his voice had a queer 
sound as he said : 

“ Daughter, I hate to trouble you when you 
have so much to do, but the mice have played 
havoc with my grain-bags.^’ 

“ I can mend them right now,” I said, and I 
coaxed him to lie down for a nap in the cool 
sitting-room ; and as I mended the dusty, bad- 
smelling things I prayed for my father as I 
never had done before. 

“You are a good girl, Mabie,” he said, when 
he came after the bags, and he stooped and 
kissed me. 

I was so starved for a little love I had to cry 
for gladness over that. 

August 75. Yesterday I had a terrible time 
with Evelyn. I was too angry to dare let my 
wrath explode, so I caught up Bessie’s sunbon- 
net and rushed up the hill to Mrs. Lewis, and 
before I realized it I had told her the whole dis- 
graceful story. 

“ Lie down on the sofa,” she said. “You are 
panting for breath.” 

Then she called Pattie to bring some cold 
lemonade and some of her delicious cake. Of 
course this kind treatment broke me all down. I 
cried, and then I laughed, and was myself again. 


48 


Corner Work. 


‘‘What are you reading now, Mabel?’’ she 
asked, abruptly. 

“ Reading !” I cried. “ I ’d like to know how 
I can find time to read when I have to work like 
a slave all day, and am so tired at night I 
do n’t always say my prayers.” 

“I thought as much,” she said, gently. 
“You are trying to fill other lives by starving 
your own. Part of your ‘corner’ is your own 
heart, Mabel.” 

“I know what you mean,” I said. “I have 
been used to family prayers at auntie’s, and 
lovely talks with her and uncle, and prayer- 
meetings and splendid sermons, and time to read 
and think and pray. O, Mrs. Lewis, I thought 
I was fully consecrated to God, and I never 
dreamed I had such a quick temper. I suppose 
if I had gone among the heathen I would have 
lost ray religion in a week.” 

“No,” she said, “you would have felt the 
necessity of keeping your spiritual strength for 
your work, and you must do it now. You think 
you can not go to prayer-meeting and Church 
here, but I know you can. Can ’t you get a 
moment to learn a verse and say your prayers 
before you go down in the morning? You take 
time to wash your face.” 

“Barely,” I said, laughing; for she knew 
how fastidious I had always been about cleanli- 


Lessons. 


49 


ness. “ I have to give my hair a twist and jump 
into a calico dress and get down in about five 
minutes after father calls. I hn such a sleepy, 
head, and he gets up so early ; and if he do n’t 
have his breakfast as soon as the tea-kettle boils, 
almost, he is out of sorts for the day. But he 
always builds the fire, and has things ready, 
sometimes the potatoes washed,” I said, feeling 
I had spoken disrespectfully of my really kind 
father. 

“Well, here is my ‘Daily F'ood;’ I know you 
can read a verse while you get breakfast. You 
must learn to have things ready at night 
Nothing spoils a day like a hurried, unsatisfac- 
tory beginning.” 

“I pray many times a day over my work,” I 
said, “especially over the pancakes; for our folks 
want them every morning the year around.” 

“ That is good ; but you must take time to 
go off alone and commune with God Are you 
trying to wash and iron yet?” 

I acknowledged I did both, after a fashion, 
and not being used to such hard work I lamed 
my back every time. 

“ My eyes are too weak to read any more. 
If you will give me two afternoons a week. Pat- 
tie shall wash for you Monday, and help iron 
Tuesday. I will make it all right with her and 
consider myself fortunate.” 

4 


50 


Corner Work, 


I could only kiss the blessed woman for my 
thanks. 

August 20, How much easier work seems 
when the heart is light! I find I do not have 
half the difficulties now I read my Bible and 
pray more. Mrs. Lewis has the old-fashioned 
consumption, and is a great sufferer. She told 
me at first she was troubled because she could 
not get well, and then because she could not die; 
but she had learned to take the suffering and 
uncertainty as God^s work. She believes every 
trial, even living with disagreeable people, is 
appointed by our Heavenly Father for our high- 
est good. 

“You could not fret over things if you real- 
ized they were part of God’s ‘all things,’” she 
said to-day. 

I took the children to Sunday-school Sunday. 
To-day, as I came home, Bessie was singing over 
and over again; 

“Jesus bids us shine — 

You in your little corner, 

And I in mine.’' 

Mrs. Lewis has taught me one valuable les- 
son, and that is, I do not please God by neglect- 
ing my health and trying to do twice as much 
as I can do. 

“ If people only realized it,” she said, “ a 
good nap will often restore, not only physical, 


Lessons. 


51 


but spiritual weariness. Learn to work without 
so much wearing out of yourself, Mabel, and re- 
member while you are to be a shining light you 
are not required to be a star.’’ 

So I am taking things easier, keeping myself 
more as I did at uncle’s, and walking and talk- 
ing more with father, and not spending so much 
time on things that amount to little. 



chapter Vi. 

AUNT MARY JANE. 

OME one was knocking at the front 
entrance, and Bertha stepped to the 
door and opened it. Before her stood 
a tall, angular woman, whose keen, 
pleasant face made one forget her old-fashioned 
traveling-dress, big black basket, and faded um- 
brella. 

‘‘ Does John Watson live here ? Yes ; you 
look enough like him to be his daughter,’’ said 
the stranger. I ’m his Aunt Mary Jane — your 
grandfather’s youngest sister. You know I live 
down East, and I thought I ’d hunt up my kin- 
folks out West. But I ’d think sich a big house 
would have a bell.” 

Bertha waited till later to explain the mys- 
teries of electricity, and gave her unexpected 
relative a cordial welcome ; for Aunt Mary Jane 
52 



V 


Aunt Mary Jane, 


53 


was a name she had been taught to respect. 
Before a week the visitor had become such a 
helpful member of the family that every one 
forgave her peculiarities, and urged her staying 
indefinitely. 

“Then I will pay my board, John,” she de- 
cided. “ I get in all three hundred dollars a 
year, and I Ve eat the bread of independence 
too long to like the taste of the other kind in 
my old age.” 

So, in spite of every protest, she laid down 
two dollars every Saturday morning, and, not 
knowing the high-mindedness of Chicago board, 
supposed she gave a good price, and enjoyed 
life accordingly. 

Aunt Mary Jane took a lively interest in the 
city, and Bertha took her every place, though 
the sensitive girl really suffered over the re- 
marks her outspoken aunt made in public some- 
times. 

“ Good land ! It’s sad to see a pretty young 
woman blind,” Aunt Mary Jane said, giving the 
person in question a sympathetic glance through 
her silver-rimmed spectacles. 

“ O, Auntie, that ’s the elegant Mrs. Everts. 
What makes you think she is blind?” asked 
Bertha. 

“Why should she be led around by a little 
dog if she can see?” demanded Aunt Mary Jane. 


54 


Corner Wori^. 


‘‘ Why, Auntie, that ’s her poodle,’’ replied 
Bertha, laughing in spite of herself, as the lady 
followed the fat dog, who was pulling his ribbon 
impatiently. 

“ I want to know!” gasped Aunt Mary Jane; 
and she forgot the ‘‘factory” she wanted, and 
stood in Field’s doorway, watching the dog- 
show. 

“ Beauty, you are so restless I will go home, 
and come to-morrow,” the lady said, taking the 
dog in her arms and going to her carriage. 
There she wrapped him in a shawl, and kissed 
his little black nose. 

“ She be blind, anyway,” sighed the spinster. 
“ It makes my blood bile to see a pup made a 
baby of, when so many poor children need 
mothering.” 

“ She has a lovely child of her own,” re- 
marked Bertha. 

“ Where is it?” cried her aunt. 

“ O, at home, or in the park with that 
pretty little nurse-girl Christie brings to prayer- 
meeting.” 

“Leaving her baby to a hireling, and petting 
a dog 1” gasped Aunt Mary Jane. “I ’ve read of 
sich ; I never beheld it before,” and she fol- 
lowed Bertha mechanically into the store, 
her mind still on the poodle and its foster- 
mother. 


Aunt Mary Jane. 


55 


‘^Good land, Bertha! What’s the matter 
with the floor, or am I dizzy-headed?” she 
cried, coming back to her surroundings. 

‘‘We stepped into the elevator, auntie,” ex- 
plained Bertha. 

“ I Ve heard of sich things, and it ’s tempt- 
ing Providence to be too lazy to walk up-stairs. 
I say, young man, let me off* this minute.” 

“Yes, madam,” replied the elevator-boy, 
with a grin, as the door of the desired floor 
flew open 

Aunt Mary Jane stepped out, looking around 
in bewilderment at the transformation scene, 
and it required some effort for Bertha to get 
her to the place where she wished to purchase 
a hat. 

“ You do n’t want that little flipperty thing 
for winter,” remarked her aunt, as Bertha put a 
small turban on her pretty head. 

“ No, Auntie ; I will get a velvet hat for 
winter,” was the reply. 

“ How many do you get a year, for pity 
sakes?” was the next question. 

“ Only four or five, besides a ‘ rough and 
ready’ for the summer. I don’t have bonnets 
to match every dress, as some of the girls do.” 

“ And you, a child of a King, put all that 
money on your head?” said Aunt Mary Jane. 
“ It would n’t be so bad if girls put the expense 


56 


Corner Work, 


inside ; but eight dollars for that little thing is 
awful 

‘‘ Why, Auntie, it is n’t wrong when I do n’t 
spend nearly as much as some of the girls 
whose fathers have n’t half as much money as 
mine,” replied Bertha. 

‘‘You young folks were talking about that 
young minister out West, who had lived so long 
on bread and molasses,” said Aunt Mary Jane. 

“We are going to make a fair, and send him 
money for an overcoat,” said Bertha. 

“Yes; waste your time making useless 
things, and make folks that don’t want them 
buy them, and turn God’s house into a market- 
place, when there is a quicker, easier way. 
Have a thank-offering, and each give the price 
of something like that hat,” answered Aunt 
Mary Jane. “Besides, Bertha, I don’t see how 
such a tender-hearted child as you be can wear 
a bird that ought to be singing somewhere this 
minute.” 

“O, we sometimes hear that argument,” said 
the young woman, who considered Bertha her 
special prize, and wished the old-fashioned aunt 
on the other side of the lake, if not in the bot- 
tom of it. “Birds were made for ornament, as 
well as song.” 

“Yes ; they ornament a tree, or even a cage,” 
replied Aunt Mary Jane. “The safest way, 


Aunt Mary Jane. 


57 


young woman, is to let alone everything there 
is doubt on. Better be an old fogy, and draw 
the line too close, than to go in the broad 
path. But may be you ain’t a professor, 
ma’am.” 

“ I ’m afraid I do n’t know much about siich 
things,” said the young girl, laughing and 
blushing. 

“ Please read this,” and Aunt Mary Jane 
drew from her reticule Newman Hall’s ‘Xome 
to Jesus.” “ I wish you knew what a precious 
friend the Savior is,” she said, softly, giving the 
young girl such a bright, sweet smile, she prom- 
ised to read the little book. 

will not leave the order to-day,” said 
Bertha, half-vexed with her earnest old aunt. 

“ You ’ve been to some trouble, young woman, 
and I won’t need a new bonnet this year, but I 
want two pretty hats — not too dear — for girls of 
sixteen and eighteen. I ’ll call to-morrow, and 
pay for them. No birds; but I don’t mind soft, 
curly feathers. But no name is to be sent with 
them.” 

‘‘ O, Auntie ! you are going to fix up the 
Baker girls, I know. How splendid !” Bertha 
exclaimed, when they were out on the street 
again. 

‘‘Don’t mention it,” said Aunt Mary Jane, 
who was as much afraid of praise as most people 


58 


Corner PP^orat. 


are of blame. “*I We broken the Left-hand Com- 
mandment now, letting you know.’’ 

‘‘And, Auntie, you ordered feathers, so some 
bird will have to die,” Bertha said, mischiev- 
ously. 

“Good land! so I did,” gasped the conscien- 
tious spinster. “ But maybe they ’ll be tail- 
feathers the birds have dropped.” 

Leaving her companion to think over this 
puzzling question, Bertha fell to planning a 
thank-offering week, and later thirty young 
people promised a week of self-denial for the 
frontier preacher. 

I suppose some people will smile over what 
these young people called “sacrifice but they 
as truly crucified their desires as many who give 
up more necessary things. No names were on 
the envelopes, but there was written the act of 
self-denial. These were some of them : “ A fall 
hat, $5.” “ An excursion, $10.” “ Using cheap 
stationery, 50 cents.” “Candy, 50 cents.” “Ci- 
gars for a week, $2.” I only hope the last 
“sacrifice” became a confirmed habit. 

Well, enough came in to buy a suit of 
clothes, an overcoat, and the books the frontier 
minister most needed. Aunt Mary Jane stuffed 
the pockets with what happened to strike her 
fancy as most needed. Home-made socks, a 
pair of mittens, a fine comb, lead-pencils, a 


Aunt Mary Jane. 


59 


pocket-book with a few dollars in change, and 
a paper of cough-candy. In the young man’s 
grateful acknowledgment he confessed he was 
on the point of giving up when this timely help 
came. 

“Mamma, see what auntie has done,” Bertha 
said one day. “Dr. Hunt was telling me to-day 
that Mr. Wright had had more converts last year 
than any other man in his Conference. I feel as 
if we ought to help poor ministers, and not 
spend another cent on ourselves. Yet if every- 
body gave everything away, as Aunt Mary Jane 
advocates, there would be no rich men to carry 
on great enterprises. Besides, God put the love 
of the beautiful in our hearts.” 

“Most of us spend too much on personal 
gratification, and too little for God’s work,” was 
the answer; “but your aunt takes one extreme 
view. I remember a man went to Beecher to 
reprove him for wearing good clothes. ‘But, 
my friend, you have on woolen clothes, when 
you could wear sheepskin, and give away the 
difference,’ was the answer — though I admit 
Aunt Mary Jane could hardly live on less. I 
have decided to give the difference between a 
new sealskin and a beaver to Bishop Taylor’s 
work; but I don’t feel it my duty to get a cloak 
like Christie’s. Daughter, pray over these things, 
and use common sense, and do n’t censure people 


6o 


Corner Wore'. 


who wear fine clothes and call themselves God’s 
children. They may deny themselves in ways 
we do not dream of, and they may not have been 
led on that subject. Anyway, indulging in un- 
kind criticism is certainly as bad as wearing 
fine clothes ; and being proud of unworldliness 
is as sinful as pride in anything else.” 

From that time Bertha made the matter of 
dress and pleasure a subject of prayerful thought. 
She found in many ways she could practice self- 
denial, and have more money for God’s work, 
without making herself unattractive or pe- 
culiar. 

One thing that troubled Aunt Mary Jane was 
the choir of which Bertha was a member. 

“I do wish you would sing in English in 
your choir. Really, I do n’t believe God wants 
to be praised in a foreign tongue,” Aunt Mary 
Jane said, one Sunday at dinner. 

‘‘O, that was ‘United States,’” laughed 
George, who spent Sunday at home. 

“Du tell!” said his aunt. “Am I deef? I 
did not catch a word, and the tune went ripping 
and snorting and dancing along, making me 
think of a circus band.” 

“O, Bertha, hear that!” said George. 

“Well, it was very difficult music,” said 
Bertha, a little hurt. 

“Yes; almost impossible,” went on Aunt 


Aunt Mary Jane. 6 i 

Mary Jane. “The girl who carried the air 
squinted and strained to get so high, I feared 
she ^d bust a blood-vessel, or anyway a button 
off her tight basque.'^ 

“Aunt Mary Jane is about right,’^ said Mr. 
Watson. “I believe a good leader, and the con- 
gregation joining heartily, is more the worship 
of God than listening to these noted paid 
singers.’^ 

“ I thought, papa, you wanted me to use my 
voice for the Lord ?” said Bertha. 

“ I do, my dear ; and when you speak your 
words distinctly, and sing from your heart, you 
do. I do not object to a choir of thirty or forty 
young people, or even of four, if they sing for 
the right purpose,’’ was the answer. 

“And don’t giggle right to the preacher’s 
back, and before the congregation,” went on the 
old-fashioned aunt. 

“Bertha, you are very careful about that; 
but what does Miss Harding find so amusing?” 
asked Mr. Watson. 

“ Mr. Sothern tries to keep her laughing, and 
we see funny things. One day Brother Grant 
went to sleep with his mouth open, and it 
looked as if a fly crawled in. To-day a little 
mouse ran out in front when Dr. Hunt was in 
the most solemn part,” explained Bertha. 

“Well, it’s disturbing to folks who come 


62 


Corner Wore. 


to fix tlieir minds on holy things to have a lot 
of young people smiling and nodding and fan- 
ning and yawning afore you. If a church is sich 
a funny sight, the singers ought to be in a loft 
to the back,’’ said Aunt Mary Jane. 




chapter vil. 

SAVED. 

OSE has not been at the young peo- 
ple’s meeting for several weeks, so I 
must hunt her up,” Bertha said one 
November day. “It is not easy to be 
chairman of the ‘Look-up’ Committee in a city.” 

“ I ’m afraid something is wrong with Rose,” 
Christie said, coming in with a pile of nicely 
ironed clothes. “ I would like to ask her here 
to dinner again some Sunday if you don’t mind, 
Mrs. Watson. She ’s so lonesome.” 

“ Indeed, I ’d like to have her,” answered 
Mrs. Watson, “ especially if Mrs. Everts lets her 
bring that lovely boy with her.” 

“ She is the only mother the child has,” went 
on Christie, still thinking of Rose. “I some- 
times run over just as she is putting him to bed. 
She sings to him after he has said his prayers, 

63 


64 


Corner Work. 


She has told him about Jesus, and now he calls 
himself ‘Jesus’ little lamb.’ She said she could 
do nothing else, and she hoped teaching little 
Charlie was something.” 

“Indeed it is,” said Mrs. Watson. “I only 
wish people understood what a great work it is 
to lead the smallest child heavenward. I expect 
Charlie will be a star in Rose’s crown of re- 
joicing, and who can tell the good he may do in 
after years? But Rose is such a pretty, unso- 
phisticated child, I tremble for her alone in this 
wicked city.” 

“ If all Christian women took care of friend- 
less girls as you do, Mrs. Watson, there would 
not be so many go to the bad. But all that 
most folks care for is to have the work done 
well and not to be bothered with company,” 
Christie said as she left the room. 

As that evening was the one for the young 
people’s prayer-meeting, the girls decided to stop 
for Rose. Going to the servants’ door, they 
found Bridget was with Charlie and Rose was out. 

“Perhaps we will find her at the church,” 
said Bertha; but she was not there, and Christie 
could only pray with all her heart for the friend 
for whom she felt anxious. 

Bertha was detained by a committee meeting^ 
and, as she was sure of company, Christie hur- 
ried homeward. 


Saved. 


65 


The full moon made it as light as day, and 
some distance off Christie noticed a girl crouch- 
ing on the steps of a large stone church. As 
she came nearer she heard the sound of bitter 
weeping. At the approach of footsteps the girl 
sprang and ran like a frightened deer, but not 
until Christie had recognized Rose. 

‘‘Rose! Rose!’’ she cried. “It’s Christie. 
You must wait.” 

But she ran on, and it was some time before 
Christie overtook her friend. 

“What has happened? Tell me,” begged 
Christie, taking the trembling girl in her arms. 
“What are you doing out of doors this cold 
night without even a shawl?” 

“O Christie! I loved and trusted him, and 
he has shown himself a bad, wicked man. It 
has grown too cold to walk in the park, so I ’ve 
met him lately at his friend’s. I never dreamed 
what a place it was till to-night, when I found 
out their wicked plans. I got away as quickly 
as I could, without stopping for my things, and 
I ran so fast, for fear they would follow me, I 
had to drop on the steps for breath,” and Rose’s 
slight frame quivered with sobs as she told her 
story. 

“Thank God you escaped!” said Christie. 
.“I am not afraid. I will take you home.” 

“I want to go to my mother,” sobbed Rose. 

5 


66 


Corner Work, 


“I can’t stay in this dreadful city. I was so 
lonely, and he was so kind. He promised to go 
with me to prayer-meeting some day. I thought 
he would become a Christian, and would n’t 
mind my being a working girl. O, Christie, 
I have n’t told you the worst!” You may hate 
me now,” and the young girl drew away as she 
whispered: “For a moment I was tempted to 
stay, to give up my very soul for him.” 

“ Temptation is not sin, dear Rose,” an- 
swered Christie, putting her arms around her ; 
“but putting ourselves in the way of temptation 
is. You will never do anything again your 
mother would not think right, and you know 
going alone to meet him was one thing wrong. 
But come, you will take your death,” and Chris- 
tie took off her warm shawl and wrapped it 
around poor Rose. 

“I shall be afraid to be out alone again,” 
said Rose. 

“You need not if you will let me manage it;” 
and when she got home Christie told Mrs. Wat- 
son enough of the story to make Mr. Watson 
have a personal interview with the young man 
that secured Rose from further peril. But no 
earthly friend could save the young heart from 
suffering. That night, as she sat by Charlie’s 
bed, broken trust, disappointed love, hatred, and 
remorse struggled in her soul, each the master 


Sa ved. 


67 


at times. She felt that her pure young life had 
been scorched by a flame from perdition. She 
realized that night that a temptation is sinless 
only when its coming is beyond our control. 
But there is a healing fountain, and Rose turned 
in her child-like trust towards it. She ever 
after knew what it meant to say, ‘‘Out of the 
depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord! But 
there is forgiveness with thee.’^ There was a 
scar on this young heart long after the wound 
was healed. Young people sometimes think 
those who have overcome sin and temptation, by 
God’s grace, are the most to be revered ; but the 
safest, noblest characters are those who shun the 
first look of evil, and live near enough to God 
to keep away from temptation. 

Rose’s mind was somewhat diverted from 
her own troubles by finding the next morning 
that Charlie was sick and feverish. She watched 
him carefully, using such simple remedies as s*!he 
had learned at home. That evening, as she sat 
by the nursery fire, with the child in her arms, 
he laid his cheek against hers and said : 

“Rose, tell me about the little lamb. He 
went off on the mountain.” 

“Yes, darling, away from the Good Shep- 
herd, out on the cold, dark mountain, because 
he thought there was better pasture out of the 
fold,” said Rose, 


68 


Corner Work. 


^‘But he found it dark and cold,’’ said the 
child. ‘‘Why are you crying, Rosa, Hear? Are 
you sorry for the poor little lamb ’cause it got 
lost?” 

“Yes, I ’m sorry for any one who wanders off 
in the dark.” 

“ But the Good Shepherd came and took the 
poor little lamb back in his arms,” said Charlie. 

“Yes, thank God! he saved the poor little 
foolish thing,” said Rose, her tears falling fast 
on the child’s golden hair. 

“Jesus will take me in his arms, won’t he, 
Rosa?” 

“Yes, you are Jesus’ ‘little lamb,’ ” she said. 

Just then there was a rustle of silken robes, 
and the door opened. 

“What, Charlie not in bed? You are spoil- 
ing the child. Rose,” Mrs. Everts said. 

“He isn’t sleepy to-night. He does n’t seem 
quite well,” answered Rose. 

“Nonsense!” laughed the young mother. “ I 
never saw his eyes brighter or his cheeks rosier. 
Lay him down ; I am going in full dress to an 
opera party, and I want my neck and face enam- 
eled. You forgot to wash Beauty to-day.” 

“Yes ma’am, Charlie seemjed so poorly I 
didn’t leave him.” 

“O, he’s all right,” and with a hasty kiss 
Mrs. Everts left the little fellow. 


Saved. 


69 


When Rose returned the child was asleep. 
His face was scarlet and his breathing short and 
labored, and he soon awoke with a choking 
cough. As soon as the paroxysm was over 
Rose ran to the telephone, for the other servants 
were out. She at once thought of her friends 
at the Watson home. The rest of the family 
were gone, and Aunt Mary Jane had to answer 
the telephone. She was much afraid the thing 
would explode or strike her with lightning; but 
she listened, and heard Rose’s anxious call. 

“Good land! I’ll be right there,” she 
screamed at the top of her voice. “ Call the 
doctor. Rose. Dr. Hayden, come quick I” she 
shouted, for she had not learned about connec- 
tions yet. 

But the telephone girl had listened to some 
purpose; so aunt Mary Jane and the doctor 
reached the house about the same time. 

“Diphtheria,” said the doctor. “Where is 
his mother? At the opera, I suppose. Send 
for her immediately.” 

And again the telephone was used for a mes- 
senger-boy to find Mrs. Everts. In about an 
hour a carriage stopped, the hall-door opened, 
and quick steps were heard on the stairs. 

“What is the matter with Charlie?” cried the 
mother, snatching the child from Aunt Mary 
Jane, who was renewing a hot poultice. 


70 


Corner Work. 


‘‘I do love my baby, doctor; you must not 
let him die,’^ she sobbed. 

“My dear madame, I fear I was called too 
late. It is a malignant type,’^ was the answer, 
and the doctor took the child as another spasm 
of choking convulsed the unconscious little 
sufferer. 

At last the heroic treatment seemed to have 
conquered the disease. 

“ O, Doctor, he breathes easier ! I believe he 
knows me. He will live,’^ cried the mother, 
covering the purple little face with kisses in 
spite of the doctor’s warning. 

A smile came over the child’s face. He lifted 
his eyes to his beautiful mother with a look of 
love, then the gaze went beyond earthly sur- 
roundings. “Jesus’ little lamb,” he whispered as 
the mother bent over him. Then he sank back 
upon her bosom. There was no more struggling, 
no more suffering; the dark color faded from his 
face, leaving it white as a lily. 

“ He has fallen asleep. He ’s worn out,” 
said the mother. 

Then Aunt Mary Jane took little Charlie, and 
Rose tried to tell the truth to the awakened 
mother. 

In the gray dawn of that November day the 
Good Shepherd had come down and had gath- 
ered one more lamb to his bosom. 



chapter Viii. 

ROSE’S WORK. 

HEN it was known Charlie had died 
of diphtheria, and that Mrs. Everts 
was prostrated with the same disease, 
all the servants in the household, ex- 
cept Rose, found it convenient to take a vaca- 
tion. Rose did not leave her mistress, except 
to help Aunt Mary Jane arrange Charlie for his 
long sleep. 

Mr. Everts was in New York, and the nature 
of the disease made it impossible to wait for 
him; so only a few friends followed the little 
white hearse to the cemetery. Rose was the 
chief mourner for the beautiful boy, for the 
mother was in a delirium of fever when the 
white casket was borne away. 

It was several days before those who watched 
Mrs. Everts had any hope of her life. Aunt 

71 



72 Corner Work, 

Mary Jane staid day and night, helping the 
nurse or Rose, wherever she was needed. When 
Mr. Everts arrived, he was almost heart-broken 
over the loss of his boy and his wife’s danger. 
He was much older than his wife, and a perfect 
type of a successful business man. 

“It was for Charlie I was working so hard. 
I wanted to save him the struggles of my early 
life,” he said to Aunt Mary Jane one day. 

“The Good Shepherd has saved him all 
struggles,” said the old lady, softly. “ But all 
is not lost, Mr. Everts ; your wife is going to 
pull through, and she needs your help now.”^ 

“I fear I have neglected poor little Nellie,” 
he said ; “ but I give her everything heart can 
wish for.” 

“Except yourself,” said blunt Aunt Mary 
Jane. “And I know enough of the female 
heart to say nothing else will satisfy her. But, 
Mr. Everts, to be able to live for each other 
truly, you both need God.” 

Having delivered her message, she hurried 
back to the sick-room, where she had been help- 
ing Rose since the experienced nurse had left 
for another engagement. When the servants 
had reappeared. Aunt Mary Jane had dismissed 
them, and had employed new help, as Mr. 
Everts directed; and their ways tried her thrifty 
soul to the utmost. 


J^osE's Work. 


73 


‘‘ Rose,” Mrs. Everts said, one day, after she 
was able to lie on the velvet couch before the 
parlor fire, wanted so much to die, but I am 
going to live.” 

‘‘I hope so, dear Mrs. Everts,” replied Rose. 

‘‘I did not live for Charlie. When I found 
I was a mother before I was twenty, I felt re- 
bellious. O, Rose, if I could only live the last 
three years over again, what a privilege the 
least thing I conld do for him would be! Ihn 
afraid* I neglected my baby for Beauty. Where 
is the dog? I had forgotten all about him.” 

‘‘ I was afraid you would feel bad if I told 
you. Some of the servants stole him when they 
left when you were so sick. Perhaps, if you 
offer a good reward you will get him again,” 
replied Rose. 

‘‘No; I’m glad he’s gone. My arms ache 
for Charlie, not for my little dog. Tell me 
again the story of the lost little lamb, that 
Charlie loved.” 

And over and over Rose repeated the sweet 
old story, and unconsciously she began her life- 
work. 

“I am like the sheep you sing about — ‘Sick 
and helpless, and ready to die,”’ said Mrs. 
Everts. “But I do not feel afraid, now. I am 
sure the Good Shepherd loves me, too. Did 
you ever feel lost. Rose?” 


74 


Corner Work. 


*‘Yes,” replied Rose. 

“Was it when your father died? You said 
you had a good father.’’ 

“No; that was hard, but I did not know 
about being lost in sin then. A young man, 
who does as much good as a minister, made me 
think of it first; but Christie, Mrs. Watson’s 
hired girl, helped me most.” 

“O, Rose, you are naturally good ; you never 
wandered very far,” said her mistress. 

“Yes, I have. I wasn’t always at prayer- 
meeting when you thought I was,” and, with a 
hidden face. Rose told of the trouble through 
which she had been passing. 

“ Poor Rose !” said Mrs. Everts, stroking the 
soft, dark hair of the girl who was weeping so 
bitterly beside her. “ I neglected you, too. I 
knew you were good to Charlie, and I never 
thought of your being in danger ;” and the two 
young women, widely separated by social posi- 
tion, but closely united by youth and sorrow, 
sat with clasped hands, silent a long time. At 
last Rose spoke: 

“ I remember mother said once that young 
people were always ready to die over their first 
disappointment or trial, but how much nobler 
it was to want to live to comfort others. I can 
help tempted girls, and you, poor, heart-broken 
mothers.” 


Rose's Work, 


75 


“We will try it, Rose,” Mrs. Everts answered. 
“ Mr. Everts is going to take me to Florida next 
week, and when he leaves me I will need you in 
every way. Will you go. Rose?” 

“Yes,” said Rose; and preparations were be- 
gun at once, and in a week the great house was 
closed and the family settled in a pretty cottage 
on the St. John’s River. 

“Rose writes Mr. Everts is going to take his 
wife to Europe in the spring, and she wants 
Rose to go with her,” Christie said, one Decem- 
ber day, as she was scrubbing the kitchen floor. 
“ Great things never happen to me,” she sighed. 

“You are wrong there, Christina Holland,” 
said Aunt Mary Jane, gently. Unknowm to her- 
self, she was losing much of the sharpness of 
manner that had been to her noble character 
what the burr is to the chesthut. It was not frost, 
but the sunshine of a lovely Christian home 
that was taking the prickly edge off of some of 
Aunt Mary Jane’s ways. “ God gave you the 
great thing of leading Rose to Christ, and 
through her that little lamb was made fitter for 
the kingdom; and, now that her dog is gone, 
the mother is a changed woman. I ’m not sure 
she ’s converted. I do n’t take much stock in 
the easy way folks get religion nowadays. We 
used to have to groan at the mourner’s bench. 


76 


Corner Work. 


Still I hope that pretty young thing has found 
peace. But you are well enough off, Christina, 
doing the Lord’s will; for if it’s scrubbing that’s 
needed, that’s as pious as leading a prayer- 
meeting. If he wants you to go to Florida or to 
Europe, the way will open; but, mind you, do 
not let that bread rise too high.” 

Aunt Mary Jane beat the cake she was mak- 
ing as if her life depended on it, and with a smile 
Christie hurried to her bread. She was finding 
in Aunt Mary Jane the friend she most needed. 
Not only did she help her with the house-work, 
but the rough speech that jarred cultured 
Bertha made Christie feel more at home with 
the good woman. 

Christie had been one of those housewives 
who always did their work three times — before 
they did it, while they were at it, and after- 
wards; and the time they thought about it was 
more wearing than the actual labor. 

‘‘ Good land, Christie!” Aunt Mary Jane said 
one day, ‘‘ you ’re a good worker, but you make 
me think of a wagon that squeaks. Squeakin’ 
do n’t signify that it is drawing a heavy load, 
but that it needs greasing. The Scripture says, 
‘ In quietness and rest thy strength shall be.’ 
Can’t you take your backache and your rough 
hands and hard work to the Lord, and not make 
everybody in the house pack your burdens too?” 


I^OSE'S IV0EA\ 


77 


Christie laughed, and made such a brave ef- 
fort to overcome her habit of complaining, that 
it soon became worth while to go to the kitchen 
to see her sunny face and hear her sing: “He 
leadeth me, O blessed thought!’’ 

On her broom-handle she penciled : “ Who 
sweeps a room as for God’s cause, makes that 
and the action fine.” 

But not only in her humble “corner” was 
she finding joy in her work, but in an added 
opportunity for usefulness. Aunt Mary Jane in- 
sisted on doing the after-dinner work on Sun- 
days, and Frank Hays gave Christie a class in 
his mission Sunday-school. Bertha was a suc- 
cess with her twenty little girls from homes like 
her own, but she would have failed with Chris- 
tie’s poor children. No matter what is written 
in Sunday-school books about rich young ladies, 
in silks and satins, gathering up poor children 
and making them over, in real life the gulf be- 
tween the extremes of society is seldom bridged 
by personal efforts. There was no such embar- 
rassment in Christie’s way, and she was able to 
be a friend, as well as a teacher, to her little 
flock. She spent all her spare money for 
needed shoes and mittens, and took her after- 
noon out to visit their miserable homes. There 
she often cleaned a dirty room, held a sick baby 
for an hour, or mended a garment — not saying 


78 


Corner Work. 


much about religion, perhaps, but doing it “ in 
His name.^’ Aunt Mary Jane watched Christie’s 
efforts with warm appreciation. 

“You begin to see, child,” she said one day, 
“ we can’t all be marble pillars or the shining 
pinnacles of the temple. There must be many 
bricks and stones in the foundation out of sight, 
and a floor for people to walk on, as well as pic- 
tured windows for the sunlight to get through ; 
and it’s ‘how,’ not ‘what’ we do that counts. 
I do n’t believe Mabel’s trials will hurt her in 
the long run. If God means her to be a mis- 
sionary, she can endure the hardships easier 
than Bertha could. We can not expect to go 
sailing to the skies on feather-beds of ease.” 

“ But I ’m afraid she will break herself down 
with hard work,” said Mrs. Watson, who loved 
Mabel like a daughter. 

“Then she is grieving over Roy, and Evelyn 
is such a trial.” 

“ Now you are talking. Evelyn visited me 
with Mary, when she was down East, and she 
sp’iled everything; for she was never happy un- 
less she was miserable. Evelyn Elder will al- 
ways find this world a howling wilderness, if she 
has to do the howling to make it so; and Mary 
had lots of grace, but not much grit. Grace 
and grit must go hand in hand to get along. 
But, good land ! the Father can take care of his 


JvOSE's Work, 


79 


own, and from hearsay I know Mabel is his. 
We can’t all have front seats, or go to heaven in 
a palace-car. She won’t be tried more than is 
for her good.” 

Just then the postman brought a letter from 
Mabel, and, after hearing it read, Aunt Mary 
Jane decided Mabel needed help. 


CHflPTEFj IX. 

“E’EN THOUGH IT BE A CROSS.” 


ABEE was busy with her Christmas 
preparations, although it was several 
weeks before the calendar promised 
that holiday. The children were to 
have a tree as they had at Aunt Anna’s, and 
they were making paper flowers and covering 
hickory-nuts with tin-foil, and getting ready 
many pretty home-made decorations. Mabel 
spent' her spare moments in her own room, 
working on two dressing-gowns, as her gifts she 
hoped to finish in time. As Frank said, it 
seemed foolish when they did not know whether 
Roy was alive or not; but Mabel answered if he 
did not return for ten years he should find he 
had not been forgotten. The months had gone 
rapidly, for Mabel was kept busy often till late 
at night. But she did not neglect her own 
8o 




'E'en Though it be a Cross." 


8i 


heart-life, knowing an empty fountain could not 
send forth water for others. Her home-work 
came first, which must always be woman’s first, 
though not her only, duty. For Church-work 
Mabel found little time or strength left, although 
she attended as many services as possible. The 
children went to Sunday-school, while Mabel 
read aloud to her father or walked with him to 
visit her mother’s grave. Sunday evening she 
told the children Bible stories, and of late her 
father always sat where he could hear, and a 
softened look came over his stern face as he 
listened while Mabel answered the puzzling ques- 
tions with which she was often interrupted. The 
children had grown pleasant and obedient under 
their sister’s firm, gentle rule, and even Evelyn 
had become less selfish and exacting. 

Mrs. Lewis had given Mabel a thought that 
helped her much at first. 

“I read the other day of some one who 
dropped into a German Church,” she said. ‘‘A 
hymn was started, and there was a discordant 
sound as every one tried to sing in a different 
key. But one woman was singing right, and 
she kept on in a clear, sweet voice until every 
one in the church was singing in tune with her. 
But remember, she sang out loud. An uncertain 
Christian life in a family of unbelievers will 
never be a key-note for others to follow.’^ 

6 


82 


Corner Work. 


After this, Mabel bravely bent her head and 
asked a silent blessing on her food, in spite of 
Evelyn’s laugh, until her father said, half in 
a jest : 

“ Give thanks for us too, Mabel.” 

And she did say a few words of thanks aloud, 
and no one annoyed her again about it. Every 
evening, as she put the children to bed, she read 
a few Bible verses aloud, and after they said, 
“ Now I lay me,” ended with a short, child-like 
prayer of her own. Now, while she was dress- 
ing a new doll for Bessie, she was humming 
“Nearer, my God, to thee.” “E’en though it 
be a cross,” she sang, when she dropped her 
work and hurried into the hall. Men were step- 
ping upon the front porch as if they were carry- 
ing a heavy burden. The front door opened, 
and some one said: 

“We mustn’t frighten them more than we 
can help. Maybe he ain’t dead.’^ 

Mabel never knew how she got down-stairs; 
but she was beside her father before the men 
had reached the old black sofa in the sitting- 
room. 

“Don’t faint. Miss Elder,” one of the men 
said. “He got caught in the machinery, and 
maybe it ’s nothing worse than losing his foot.” 

Everything grew black before Mabel; but a 
groan from her father brought her to her senses. 


**E'en Though it be a CrossT 83 

She at once began to take the shoe from the 
crushed foot, but that was more than the sufferer 
could bear. 

‘‘Cut off the shoe while I get him some- 
thing,’’ she commanded one of the mill-hands, 
and she ran to the medicine-chest, where she 
kept everything in readiness. The doctor soon 
came and bandaged the crushed foot and leg, 
but gave Mabel little hope for the life of the 
sufferer. This made Mabel telegraph for a 
noted surgeon in Cincinnati, and every one 
waited anxiously until the morning stage, which 
would be the quickest time he could make. 
When he arrived he gave a very decided opinion. 

“The leg must be amputated at the knee im- 
mediately.” 

Evelyn opposed this, declaring she knew her 
father would never forgive them for taking it off ; 
and knowing her father’s pride in his fine phy- 
sique, Mabel had her fears. There was no time 
to get Uncle John, so Mabel had to take the re- 
sponsibility of saying it should be as the surgeon 
thought best, and she nerved herself to stay near 
her unconscious father, saying if he died during 
the operation he should not be without some 
one near who loved him. 

“It is still a question of life and death. Miss 
Elder,” the surgeon said on leaving. “ You 
must see that all my written directions are car- 


84 


Corner Work. 


tied out, whether the doctors here consider it 
necessary or not.’’ 

‘‘ You must come again,” answered Mabel. 

Expense is nothing compared to father’s life.’> 

“You are the bravest girl I ever saw, and I 
will see you through, no matter how much prac- 
tice I lose,” was the answer. 

But even at a hundred dollars a visit and 
his sympathy for Mabel, the doctor thought 
it a great sacrifice to come so far, and soon left 
the case to the village doctors. There were 
plenty of kind neighbors to help in the nursing, 
but the young girl felt the responsibility a heavy 
burden. When the opiates were discontinued, 
and Mr. Elder realized his loss, he raved like a 
madman, cursing the doctors and reproaching 
Mabel. During one of the times Mabel was 
trying to soothe her unreasonable father, the 
stage stopped before the gate, and in a few mo- 
ments the bedroom door opened and in walked 
a gray-haired, pleasant-faced woman. 

“Aunt Mary Jane!” cried Mabel, and she 
clung to the strong woman trembling like a tired 
child; for her strength seemed to leave her, now 
there was some one near on whom to lean. The 
good woman understood. 

“Go lie down, my child. I am going to take 
full charge of your father. You look more like 
dying now than he does,” she said. 


'[E'en Though it be a Cross." 85 

Mary Jane, I’m glad to see you,” whined 
the sick man. “When you saw me last I was n’t 
the wreck you see now. When I was uncon- 
scious they took the mean advantage of taking 
off one of my legs.” 

“Yes, I know, and I heard all you said as I 
came in the entry. Henry, you know you would 
have died but for that.” 

“Well, I ’d rather die than hobble around on 
a crutch,” he grumbled. 

“ If you had died where would you have 
gone?” asked Aunt Mary Jane, severely. “Di- 
rectly to hell, where the hottest place is reserved 
for backsliders.” 

“There will be Church hypocrites there too,” 
retorted the sick man. 

“ No doubt you would have plenty of com- 
pany,” assented Mary Jane; “but, Henry Elder, 
are you ready to face the judgment?” 

Mr. Elder could not say that he was. 

“You have been snatched as a brand from 
the burning. Had n’t you better limp towards 
heaven than run on both legs the other way?” 
went on his visitor. 

“ O God, I ’m a miserable sinner !” he groaned. 

“Of course you be,” frankly assented his wife’s 
aunt. “Now, stop whining about dying, and 
seek mercy while you ’re on pardoning ground. 
Go to sleep now. Mabel, go to bed. I wa’ n’t 


86 


Corner Work, 


nurse in the war two years for nothing. Good 
land! I saw one man have both legs took off 
without a whimper, or chloroform either. Ev- 
elyn, stay here a moment, and then get supper.” 

Everybody minded this general in dresses. 
The sick man concluded to make the best of one 
foot, and turned over and went to sleep without 
further words. Mabel was so worn out she crept 
under the blankets without stopping to undress, 
and fell into a deep sleep, from which she did 
not awake until the next noon. 

Because the village doctors could not agree, 
Aunt Mary Jane dismissed them both and sent 
for a Kentucky surgeon of some local fame. 
Every day marked great improvement in the 
patient, and Aunt Mary Jane found time to help 
in the kitchen as well as in the sick-room. Ma- 
bel found that she was needed at the mill to take 
charge of her father’s business. The small rev- 
enue it brought was much needed now, and the 
men employed would suffer if the mill was shut 
down. Mabel gave her father a cheerful account 
of everything, and asked his advice, so he* felt 
he was overseeing his business. But still he 
was restless and hard to take care of. 

“Mary Jane,” he said one day, “I feel like 
some poor worm whom God had crushed under 
his foot.” 

“ Henry,” she answered, “ better be under 


''E'en Though it be a CrossT 87 

God’s foot than not near him at all. Get nearer 
him, ‘e’en though it be a cross that raiseth 
thee.’ ” 

“ Mrs. Lewis says if we point our crosses 
towards heaven they will make a ladder on which 
angels will ascend and descend,” said Mabel, 
who had come in unobserved. 

“ Thy cross, if rightly borne, will be 
No burden, but support, to thee,” 

repeated the sick man, as he turned uneasily on 
his pillow. “ Mabel,” he said, as Aunt Mary Jane 
left the room, “I want Roy more than anything 
else.” 

“O father, I ’m so glad to hear you say that! 
Hero still trots down to every boat; but we can’t 
find Roy until he writes.” 

“ He has written to you twice, but he showed 
such an independent spirit, I kept the letters 
from you,” said her father. 

“How dared you do such a wicked thing?” 
cried Mabel, white with anger. “He thinks 
now even I hate him. O, this is more than I 
can forgive!” 

“ I deserve all you can say ; for you have 
been the noblest and best daughter in the world, 
and I the meanest father. I won’t ask your 
forgiveness ; but I ’ve written to Roy and begged 
his, and have urged him to come at once. 
Daughter, I am in deep trouble. My soul is 


88 Corner Work, 

suffering more than my body. God will not 
hear me now.’’ 

father, I forgive everything, and I know 
Roy will. Just seek God, dearest father,” said 
Mabel, eagerly. 

‘‘ I ’m afraid I ’ve sinned away my day of 
grace,” said the troubled man. 

“ O no, father. God’s day lasts as long as a 
soul cares for mercy,” answered Mabel. 

‘‘I ’m a lost man,” he moaned. 

‘‘ Then, if you are lost, the promise is for you ; 
for he came to seek and save the lost,” was the 
quick reply. 

‘‘Bless you for that thought, daughter. It 
must mean me, for I am lost. Go pray for me. 
I must rest now.” 

Mabel kissed the worn face many times, and 
slipped away to thank God for her father’s words 
of hope. Now he would be himself again, and 
Roy — dear, generous, willful Roy — would come 
home again. 


V 


CHflPTEP^ X. 


A HAPPY CHRISTMAS. 

HE next day was the one before 
Christmas, and Mabel made her final 
preparations with a light heart. One 
of the mill-hands had brought her a 
little evergreen-tree, and this was set up in the 
parlor. 

Jack and Bessie opened their bank, and 
found they had thirty-seven cents, all told ; so 
they felt justified in buying a present for 
each one of the family, themselves included. 
Fortunately, a five-cent counter met their 
needs. 

The early stage brought the usual box from 
Chicago, which Aunt Mary Jane took posses- 
sion of, to take care of Mabel’s gift, pretending 
not to see a pair of gold-rimmed glasses with 
which she intended to be surprised. The good 

89 



90 


Corner Woric. 


woman was in her element with the Christmas 
baking, making mince-pies and plum-pudding, 
old-fashioned pound-cake, and little frosted 
cakes, and doughnuts, to say nothing of stuffing 
the fattest turkey she could find in market. The 
dinner was to be furnished from her own pocket- 
book, as well as cooked by her own hands. The 
children hovered near, making their old aunt 
nervous; but she bore it, so Mabel and Evelyn 
could work unhindered in the parlor. 

“Don^t put water in that crock!’’ screamed 
Jack. ‘‘Mabel always lets us scrape it when she 
makes cake.” 

“ And she always leaves just a little, and we 
bake it in a patty-pan, and eat it together. And 
she makes cruller babies, with currants for eyes; 
and dogs and cats of biscuit-dough, as ma did,” 
added Bessie. 

“Good land! what a sinful waste!” said the 
spinster, leaving dough enough for two little 
cakes, and afterward making a whole plate of 
cruller-folk. 

“ And we always key the pies,” said Jack. 

Aunt Mary Jane had her own peculiar finish 
for a pie, but she made up for it by giving each 
of the children material for a little pie. 

The tree was not to be exhibited until after 
the arrival of the evening stage ; but it went 
lumbering by, and without Roy. 


A Happy Christmas. 


91 


Mabel’s heart sank, and her father became 
restless. 

‘‘He may have left Cincinnati,” she said, 
soothingly. “ Your letter having to be forwarded 
would make him late.” 

She reconciled the children over their disap- 
pointment — for they, too, were looking for their 
warm-hearted big brother — by telling them they 
could hang up their stockings. If their mother 
had gone without something she really needed, 
she had always filled the children’s stockings. 
Mabel kept up all her mother’s little pleasant 
ways, and often talked to Jack and Bessie as if 
she were only off on a lovely visit. She had the 
children wreathe their mother’s picture in green, 
and under it Mabel put a vase with some flowers 
from plants the absent one had loved and tended. 

It was no use waiting longer for Roy ; so, 
after supper, the tree was lighted. One of the 
mill-hands came over, and helped carry Mr. 
Elder into the parlor, where he was made com- 
fortable on the big, old-fashioned sofa. The 
children had invited in a few of their little play- 
mates, and they were all wild with admiration. 

Mabel waited until they were over their first 
exclamations, when she said : 

“ Children, we must remember this is Christ’s 
birthday. These presents speak of our love to 
one another, but he gave himself to show his 


92 


Corner Work, 


love for us ; and we must thank him for that, as 
well as our other blessings. Father, do n’t you 
remember you used to pray before we had our 
Christmas gifts? Will you now?” 

Evelyn looked frightened, and even Aunt 
Mary Jane feared her niece had gone too far; 
but Mabel was not disappointed. 

““Yes, children,” he said, “your sisters can 
remember when I used to pray, and I am sorry 
I ever gave it up. I will try to atone to God 
and my dear ones for my years of wandering. 
Eet us pray.” 

Then followed an eloquent though broken 
prayer, which must have made the very angels 
sing for joy; for though late the hour, the prod- 
igal had returned to his Father’s house. 

Mabel stooped to kiss her father, her eyes 
overflowing with happy tears, when Hero, who 
had been sitting demurely in a warm corner, 
gave a howl of joy, and bounded over Aunt 
Mary Jane to the door. Some one had softly 
opened the door, but Hero was on the alert. 

“ O, it ’s Roy !” they all cried. 

“Yes,” the young fellow laughed. “Hero 
was the last to bid me good-bye, and the first to 
welcome me. Down, old boy ! give the girls a 
chance. I came in while the children were yell- 
ing like Indians ; and as I was about to open 
the door, Mabel spoke, and then father — ” 


A Happy Christmas. 


93 


Here the young man coughed a little. 

“I’m awful sorry for you, father; but I ’ve 
come back to be feet for you the rest of your 
life,” he said, leaning over the sofa, and putting 
his arms around the old gentleman’s neck. 

“ It is all right, my son. We will never 
mention the past again,” said his father, his 
face beaming with joy. 

“But how did you get here?” asked Evelyn. 

“ O, the river is n’t frozen up yet. I came 
from Louisville on the boat.” 

“The boats run so irregularly we forgot 
them,” said Mabel. “But where did you get 
this, my son? You look quite like a young gen- 
tleman,” she said, giving his lip a gentle touch. 

“ O, I haven’t had time to shave,” Roy re- 
plied, giving the suspicion of a mustache he had 
been cultivating a proud stroke. 

“We haven’t introduced Aunt Mary Jane,” 
began Mabel. 

“Look here! we’re mighty glad to see Roy; 
but when is Christmas going to begin?” asked 
Jack. 

“Sure enough; Santa Claus shall give you 
your presents,” and, with the aid of her tall 
brother, Mabel began distributing the presents. 

All were delighted with their gifts, though, 
except those from Chicago, they were simple 
enough. After the children had eaten candy. 


94 


Corner Work. 


nuts, and oranges until Mabel trembled for the 
consequences, they were gotten off to their 
homes and to bed, Aunt Mary Jane scolding 
herself for allowing her patient so much excite- 
ment. Roy helped his aunt with his father, and 
Evelyn went up-stairs in a bad humor, because 
Uncle John’s gift to her had been a lace-pin, 
while to Mabel he sent a lovely little gold 
watch. Inside the velvet case was a note which 
read : 

“May this little watch mark soul-growth as well as 
happy hours. Consider each day a golden opportunity. 
As Carlyle says, ‘Thy kingdom is here or nowhere.* 
Let your motto be : ‘I can do all things through Christ 
who strengtheneth me.’ ” 

But Mabel was so happy over Roy’s return 
that she could hardly notice her gifts, includ- 
ing a crazy-looking pin-cushion of Bessie’s own 
make, and a candy-apple from Jack. 

After Aunt Mary Jane had “slicked up,” as 
she insisted on doing, and had gone to bed on 
her extemporized bed in the sitting-room, in call 
of the invalid, Mabel and Roy sat down by the 
parlor fire. 

“I know it’s late,” she said, “but I can’t 
sleep until I know all that has happened to you.” 

“Well, I went right to Cincinnati, and I 
found work in a bar-room. You needn’t look so 
sorry. I could n’t starve, and I tramped until all 


A Happy Christmas. 


95 


my money was gone, but could n’t find any other 
work. I didn’t give my real name, so no one 
knew ; and I did n’t drink. The place was so 
low, it disgusted me. The city is worse than I 
thought; but a young man you knew helped me 
out of that horrible place. I was off duty one 
night, and was standing by the suspension 
bridge, when such a fit of the blues came over 
me, I thought I must throw myself in the river. 
The longer I looked, the more tempting the 
muddy water became. Don’t cry — you see I ’m 
alive, anyway. But mother was dead, father 
against me, and you hadn’t answered my letters. 
I hated my low business, and so I gave a spring 
from the bridge ; but just then a strong arm held 
me back. ‘I want you, young man,’ some one 
said. ‘No, you don’t; and I don’t want you,’ 
I said, glad I was n’t in the clutch of a police- 
man. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I ’m looking for some one 
to work for me, and I judge you need that.’ 
‘If you’d let me alone, I’d soon be where 
folks don’t have to work,’ I answered. Well, 
he didn’t preach, but he slipped his arm 
through mine, and we walked off. It was a cool 
October night, so he stopped and got a lot of hot 
oysters. My ! they tasted good. Then he told 
me he wanted me to be an agent for his soap.” 

“It couldn’t have been Frank Hays?” inter- 
rupted Mabel. “ It sounds just like him.” 


96 


Corner Work, 


‘‘Yes; as soon as he said he was from Chi- 
cago, I remembered your description of him be- 
fore he told his name. It seems he is going to 
build a large factory. His father’s money has 
been recovered some way, and he had been 
looking up Procter & Gamble’s works. He was 
on his way to Louisville, and there he left me as 
his agent. He paid my board a month in ad- 
vance, and I was successful and made a fair 
living. I sent the board I owed my miserable 
landlady, and she forwarded father’s letter; and 
I lost no time getting here.” 

“Roy, did Mr. Hays know you were my 
brother?” asked Mabel. 

“Yes; there is something about that fellow 
that looks a lie out of countenance. He asked 
my true name when I said ‘John Wilson,’ but I 
made him promise not to tell even you,” an- 
swered Roy. 

“ I ’ll write to him, and thank him for his 
kindness,” said Mabel. 

“I’ll have to throw up his work; I want to 
take care of father. But I ’d like to work for 
Hays ; he ’s a fine fellow, but a little too pious 
to suit me. A boy wants some fun.” 

“And some sleep,” said Mabel, as the clock 
struck twelve. 

The next day was a merry one in the big 
house by the river, though saddened by tender 


A Happy Christmas. 


97 


memories of the one who was spending her first 
Christmas in a fairer land. • 

A light snow had fallen, so the children were 
able to use their new sleds. Mabel’s minister 
had been invited to dinner, and he proved such 
an agreeable guest that when he called the next 
week, and begged to board with the family, Mr. 
Elder was delighted. 

“ I’m a little lonely,” he said. “ If it makes 
you too much work, take the money and hire a 
girl, Mabel.” 

“We can get along nicely,” said Mabel, who 
needed any money there might be in a boarder 
for household expenses. “But if Mr. Lindley is 
willing to help Roy with his studies, would you 
mind? He has decided to stay here; but you 
know how he loves to study.” 

“ I want Roy to learn all he can. Perhaps 
some way may open for him to go to college 
yet,” was the answer. 


7 



chapter 2^1. 

BERTHA’S LETTER. 

lERE were no secrets in Vernon. 
Some people knew other people’s af- 
fairs sooner and better than they did 
themselves. If there was one house- 
hold more than another that caused comment, it 
was the Elder family. Evelyn was considered 
“queer,” and Mabel “too high-toned;” and as 
she had never made any effort to make friends 
with the girls, she deserved the coldness she re- 
ceived. Mr. El'der’s attitude towards the Church 
was a subject of interest. In fact, some de- 
clared that they had heard that the old gentle- 
man had gone so far as to draw a pistol on a 
minister for trying to enter the house, though 
no one could name the exact date. Of course 
the minister’s leaving Mrs. Roe’s boarding-house 
for the Elder home caused much remark. 

98 




Bertha's Letter. 


99 


It ’s as plain as the nose on your face,’’ said 
Mrs. Harding, who had four daughters twenty- 
five and upwards — quite upwards, two of them. 

“ But if I were the Elder girls I would n’t be 
quite so bold about setting a trap for a husband. 
It ’s a young minister’s duty to marry and stop 
talk; but of course Brother Lindley wouldn’t 
think of Evelyn, or Mabel either ; for who ever 
sees her at class-meeting Sunday morning? My ^ 
Sallie is always there, and she knows.” 

Fortunately Mabel was serenely unconscious 
of all this. She was too happy seeing how her 
father enjoyed talking to Mr. Lindley when he 
had a little leisure. Mr. Elder had been a great 
reader, and the younger man soon found he often 
had more than his match in an argument, as 
they discussed books, politics, and religion. If^ 
was touching to see how hungry this reclaimed 
soul was for spiritual food, and the best preach- 
ing Mr. Lindley did that year was to a congre- 
gation of one, and he learned that getting a 
soul ‘‘converted” is only the beginning, not the 
end of a pastor’s mission. Roy was making 
rapid progress in his studies with the help he 
received from Mr. Lindley and Mabel. Neither 
of them “preached” to him, but both were lead- 
ing him towards a better life. 

“I have a letter from Bertha, which I don’t 
believe she would mind if read aloud,” Mabel 


lOO 


Corner Work. 


said one stormy evening, when the whole family 
was gathered around the sitting-room fire. 

Roy laid down his Caesar, and Mr. Elder and 
the minister folded their papers. Bessie was 
popping corn, and Jack has just returned from 
the cellar with a plate of rosy Northern Spys. 
Evelyn was straining her eyes over a novel as 
she ’lay curled up on the sofa, and Aunt Mary 
Jane was knitting. Mabel’s mending-basket 
was before her; but she laid aside Jack’s torn 
mittens when every one was ready to listen, and 
read in her pleasant way : 

My Dear Mabe^i,, — I can write but a few lines to- 
day, but must tell you something very important to me. 
Ever since you left I have been thinking perhaps I was 
the one God meant for special work. It is plain where 
your duty lies ; but I am not needed at home. Christie 
has settled down into a contented, helpful girl — thanks 
to Aunt Mary Jane — a servant in the right sense, yet a 
companion as well. Papa and mamma are in perfect 
health, and will always have plenty, so there is no rea- 
son why I should not give my time entirely to Christian 
work. This winter I have had time and opportunity 
for house-to-house visiting, and found it easy to talk 
about Jesus to the sick, and to mothers with little chil- 
dren. During our special services I had charge of the 
children’s work, and enjo^^ed it so much. You know 
how troubled I have been over the amusement question. 
Well, my heart is so full of God’s love and work for 
others that I do not care for the opera and, theater. 
Whether or not these things be as harmful as our Church 


Bertha's Letter, 


lOI 


thinks, if we care a great deal for Christ, I find we care 
little or nothing for worldly things. Not that I think 
we ought to renounce society entirely. I never forget 
our plan to pray before we go out or have company, 
that our influence may be for good. One evening last 
week I was at a little party with a lawyer, whom I have 
often met this winter. He is such a brilliant young 
man. I had been praying that he might give his heart 
to God. While we were at supper — we were in a quiet 
corner — he said abruptly: “I don’t look on some things 
as you do.” “What things?” I asked. “O, being con- 
verted and all that. I never had such a desire in my 
life.” The subject naturally opened to an earnest talk, 
and he promised to study the Bible and give the subject 
the thought he had given to other things. I find any one 
can wind me right up in an argument. I not only do n’t 
know why I believe, but what ; so I am to take a course 
of study that will help me. I wish, Mabel, Christian 
girls who are naturally thrown into society could real- 
ize how much they could do. I ’m just finding out as I 
am turning to a difierent place. One neglected oppor- 
tunity makes my heart ache. You know I often met 
that young skeptic, the poet, Mr. Richardson, yet I never 
had the courage to say a word for my Master. Yester- 
day we heard that, while out skating, the ice gave way, 
and he went down. His body has not been found yet. 
He was seen by some one at a distance, and made a 
brave struggle for life. I hope he turned to the God 
he had so often denied. O, I hope the next time I lose 
a friend who is not religious I will feel that I had tried 
to help him ! I have been asked to go to a school in 
India ; but I believe I am better fitted for home mission- 
ary work. There is something very restful in having 
no plans, but letting God lead. I have joined Mrs. 


102 


Corner Work, 


Brown’s ^ Sunshine Mission.’ She is an invalid who, 
like your Mrs. Lewis, forgets her sufferings in helping 
others. Bvery one who joins promises to write a letter, 
make a call, or send fruit or flowers to some sick per- 
son each week. Every one promises to be cheerful, 
honest, and charitable. In the last we are to be gov- 
erned by three things before we speak disparagingly of 
any one: First, Is it true? second, Is it kind? and third. 
Is it necessary? Several choice bits of gossip are ruled 
out of this letter for one or more of those reasons. Mrs. 
Brown says there are so many societies to prevent ani- 
mals from suffering, there ought to be one to keep peo- 
ple from stabbing one another with harsh words. I 
find so many active Christian workers have nothing 
good to say about other workers. I told Dr. Hunt that, 
and he laughed, and said: ‘Yes, I ’ve heard even some 
preachers praise themselves more than they did their 
friends ; but take the Bible and Christ, and do not try 
to copy the poor examples you see around you. You 
will find some, however, who are true disciples. Do n’t 
begin to think Church members are all wrong. They 
are not perfect; but they are the best people in the 
world, you will find.’ 

“There, I have written a long letter, and must scrib- 
ble in the corners, woman-favShion, something impor- 
tant. Papa and mamma wanted me to take a trip to 
Florida before I entered the training-school, but I 
begged for Indiana instead. I ’m homesick for you and 
dear Aunt Mary Jane, and I want to know Roy and the 
children.” 

‘‘ Precious lamb,” said the aunt, in a tender 
tone she seldom used. ‘‘ She is one of the 
Lord’s own. Now, if she keeps her common 


Bertha's Letter, 103 

sense, and do n’t get side-tracked on some 
crotchet, she will do heaps of good.” 

“ Few girls would give up Bertha’s chance 
for society life. Most girls care for nothing but 
fuss and feathers,” said Roy, soberly. 

‘‘Mabel don’t,” spoke up Jack. “She likes 
to make us candy, too.” 

“O, Mabel isn’t like any other girl,” laughed 
Roy. “I’m thankful we’re not good enough 
to spare yon, Mabe. I ’m afraid if I ’d join 
the Church, you ’d pack your trunk for Japan 
after all.” 

“ Mabel is needed here,” said Aunt Mary 
Jane; “but there’s nothing to hinder Bertha’s 
going or staying. I thought at first, with her 
pretty face and soft manners, she wasn’t deep 
enough to more than play at religion. But I’ve 
found the Lord has some servants in kid gloves, 
as well as bare-handed ones. But, good land ! 
I hope she ’ll keep level-headed, and not try to 
find out everything the Lord knows. Those 
folks who think they must have divine guid- 
ance before they can raise an umbrella in a 
storm, often get in trouble. As if good, every- 
day judgment wasn’t one of the Lord’s gifts. 
I know of a woman who went so far as to wait 
one day for the Lord to tell her to get dinner, 
and when her poor husband came from work 
there was n’t even a fire in the kitchen. She 


io4 


Corner Worn. 


said she had n’t been led to build it. I ’d have 
been led to have thrown a bucket of water on 
her to bring her to her senses. I ’ve nothing 
agin sanctification; but good sense is needed 
with it. It ’s doing as well as feeling.^ we need 
in this camping-ground of Satan.” 


CHflPTEt^ XIL 


TPIE WEDDING. 

VEIvYN was in the midst of the elope- 
ment of her heroine wdien she laid 
down the well-worn book to hear 
Bertha^s letter. As soon as she could 
find a pause she startled the family with: 

“I suppose, since Bertha has told her future 
plans, I might as well tell mine. I hn going to 
be married a week from to-day.’’ 

^‘Good land!” ejaculated Aunt Mary Jane, 
not trying to conceal her satisfaction. 

“ Goodie 1” said Jack, under his breath, and 
Mabel felt ashamed when she realized the thrill 
of pleasure she felt over Evelyn’s announce- 
ment. Only Mr. Elder took in all that this 
might mean. “ Daughter,” he said, anxiously, 
leaning forward in his chair, white with excite- 
ment, have something to say about that. 



io6 


Corner Work. 


What can you be thinking of to take such an 
important step rashly?’^ 

‘‘Can anybody get married who never had a 
beau?’^ Bessie asked, innocently. 

“O, you all think I have no admirers. Per- 
haps not of the goody-goody sort,’’ giving the 
minister a scornful glance ; but Captain Harper 
asked me to be his wife over a month ago. 
Just then you were hurt, and then Roy came 
back ; and anyway, I do n’t want a fuss made 
over it. Just give me some money, and I will 
get what I want when we get to New Orleans. 
That will be our bridal trip ; for we ’re going to 
be married the next time the boat goes down — 
next Wednesday, if there is not too much ice for 
her to get out.” 

“Captain Harper!” exclaimed Mr. Elder, re- 
lieved that it was not one of the gambling fel- 
lows he had forbidden Evelyn to go out with. 
“But, daughter, he has never been here. I 
do n’t know anything about his habits, except 
that he seems a jolly, good-natured fellow.” 

“O, you know how he’s been on the river 
for years, and letters can go and come, and I 
can go to the landing,” replied Evelyn. 

“ How long has this been going on?” asked 
Mr. Elder, with some of his old-time sternness. 

“About a year,” answered Evelyn, delighted 
at the sensation she was causing. 


The Wedding, 


107 


“And you Ve been going to Cincinnati on his 
boat to see him instead of to see the doctor?’^ 
said Mr. Elder, much excited. 

“Now, Henry,^’ said Aunt Mary Jane, “Ev- 
elyn ’s always had her own way, and it ’s too 
late in the day to cross her now. We ’ll hope 
for the best. Marrying has been the making of 
many a worthless girl, and you shan’t worry 
yourself into a fever, and maybe lose your other 
leg. We ’ll have prayer and go to bed this 
minute.” 

Either the sensible words of the general of 
the family, or the prayer the minister made, 
quieted the father; for he bade the family good- 
night pleasantly, and, after Aunt Mary Jane had 
finished her night preparations, Mabel found 
him in a better frame of mind. 

“Perhaps it is best,” he sighed. “It will 
make it easier for you. Evelyn always was a 
peculiar child. No one but an own mother or 
one like yours could have gotten along with 
her. Harper is as good as such men go ; but I 
wish they were both Christians.” 

“ That may come yet, father. We will pray 
for them. Evelyn is not very well or happy 
here, and the change may do her good. I think 
she will enjoy life on the boat and at hotels,” 
Mabel said, soothingly. 

“Yes, but her mother and yours would have 


io8 Corner Work, 

wished a different life for her. If I had been a 
better nian,’^ he began; but Mabel kissed him, 
and then softly rubbed his temples in a way 
that always quieted him, until he fell asleep. 
Mabel was too happy to go to sleep at once, and 
yet she felt a little guilty over her joy. She 
wished she had been more patient with Evelyn, 
and that she had always tried to overcome evil 
with good. The rule at Uncle John’s was the 
only Christian one — one’s best and sweetest 
disposition at home ; but with the friction of 
Evelyn’s nature, Mabel had found it hard to be 
her best self. 

The minister occupied the large spare 
room” over the parlor. Evelyn had its mate 
across the hall, the sunniest, prettiest room in 
the house, which she insisted on having alone. 
Roy had the bedroom over the wide hall, which 
Mabel’s skillful fingers had made into as cozy a 
place as a boy could wish. She had found a 
tiny little wood-stove, so Roy could have his 
own fire when he wished to be alone. In the 
middle room Mabel and Bessie slept, while Jack 
had a small room opening from it. As the 
children kept their playthings here, Mabel was 
never sure of a good all-alone” time, so neces- 
sa:cy to soul-growth as well as to bodily restora- 
tion. Aunt Mary Jane had ‘‘the girl’s room,” 
over the kitchen, heated by the stove-pipe. 


The Wedding. 


109 


‘‘Now Aunt Mary Jane can have the best 
room, and I can have a corner all my own,” was 
MabePs happy thought. 

The next week was a busy one getting ready 
for the wedding. Mabel happened to have a 
black silk dress pattern, one of Uncle John’s 
gifts, and she gave this to her sister, taking all 
her money to have it made with the expensive 
trimming Evelyn demanded. Though he could 
not afford it, her father gave her money for an 
elegant cloak and a few other things Evelyn de- 
clared she would not be married without. Aunt 
Mary Jane came to his help with her own slen- 
der allowance, and each of the children made 
some little sacrifice, so Evelyn was well pro- 
vided for. I wish I could say she appreciated 
all this ; but she took it as simply her right, and 
cried because her wedding-dress had to be cash- 
mere instead of silk. She boxed Jack’s ears 
for some trifling accident soon after he had 
brought her the pretty handkerchief, to get 
which he had sold his jackknife and Christmas 
sled. 

“ I wish I had my sled back, even if I had to 
drag it on bare ground,” he confided to a chum. 

“ She ’s a mean old thing,” replied Bessie. 
“ If I was n’t trying to be good, like Mabel, 
I ’d call her Piggy Elder. But I won’t, if she 
is one.” 


no 


Corner Work. 


Aunt Mary Jane got up a bountiful supper 
for the occasion. The river was not frozen, and 
the boat was due at six o’clock; but an Ohio 
river steamboat arrives when it gets to the land- 
ing, so it was ten o’clock before the whistle was 
heard above the bend. 

Evelyn had insisted on being married on the 
boat ; but her father would not yield to this ro- 
mantic plan. He also carried his point that 
their own minister should officiate. Mr. Lind- 
ley pronounced the happy couple husband and 
wife, and then the hungry, sleepy family sat 
down to a supper over which Aunt Mary Jane 
had nearly worried herself sick, because it had 
spoiled with long waiting, she thought. 

Captain Harper felt he dared not delay his 
passengers more than an hour; so, after a hasty 
supper, the bride and groom took the carriage 
for the wharf, where Roy and Mabel had hur- 
ried to give them a last good-bye. 

“ Thank the Lord, she ’s got somebody to 
take care of her,” Aunt Mary Jane said, as she 
and Mabel locked the house for the night. 

“Auntie, I fear I have n’t done my duty. 
She ’s just as I found her,” Mabel said, with a 
sigh. 

“Well, child, we’re warned that some of ouf 
seed will fall on stony ground. Even Christ 
could not save every one. Some were scribes 


The Wedding. 


Ill 


and Pharisees to the last. Evelyn will be Ev- 
elyn to the end of the chapter, unless the grace 
of God overtakes her, and even then I do n’t 
know whether all the kinks will come out. But, 
good land! she isn’t out of the Lord’s sight if 
she is out of ours, and we can pray for them. 
She ’s got a nice man, if she do n’t scold the 
good-nature out of him. I ’d wish there was an 
island to send scolds to, as they do with leperS) 
only I’ m afraid I ’d have to go myself.” 

^‘No danger,” laughed Mabel. “But now, 
Auntie, you shall have a nice room.” 

“ No, Mabel, I ’ve got used to my bed, and I 
do not like to change that. Besides you ’ve 
earned that room. Don’t go to the other 
extreme, and make folks uncomfortable by re- 
fusing good times. Next to selfish folks are 
those who delight in being martyrs, whether 
they are called to it or not. Now you can have 
a closet and bureau to yourself, and I ’ll train 
Bessie to keep her things in order.” 

Mabel laughed and blushed, for she knew 
her belongings had not been kept in the order 
required by her maiden aunt’s standard. 

“Very well. Auntie; you make me think of 
the spoiled apples I ate one winter,” answered 
Mabel. “The cellar was fairly running over 
with fine apples from the farm, and, of course, 
some would not keep. ‘Children,’ father said. 


II2 


Corner Wore. 


‘don’t pick out the big sound apples; eat the 
specked ones first. So every time I took an 
apple I felt it my duty to take a bad one, and 
I hate specked things. I did not enjoy an apple 
that year. Evelyn has always been a spoiled 
place in my life. I suppose I ’ll always have 
one.” 

“ Most likely, since we ain’t promised heaven 
till we get there; but it’s miserable to make 
children take the mean things. In life, don’t 
hunt specked things ; but when they come do n’t 
make a fuss. The bad place can be thrown 
away, and the rest enjoyed. Folks expect too 
much here below. They forget Adam sneaked 
off and^let poor Eve eat the apple. But you 
look tuckered out. Good night, child.” 



CHflPTEf^ XIII. 

BERTHA’S BEANS. 

HE next week Bertha came, and Mabel 
had everything in readiness to enjoy 
her visit. 

“ How things have changed since 
that evening last summer when we talked about 
work!” Bertha said, as they sat by the Franklin 
stove, talking and taking cold at the same time, 
after the manner of foolish young maidens. 

“Yes; but I feel more satisfied with your 
work and prospects than I do with mine. I 
never in my life did so little for the Master, and 
yet I never felt more anxious,” replied Mabel, 
combing out her abundant brown hair, which 
she had been sadly neglecting. 

“ You have done wonders, caring for this big 
house, and the children, and the mill, and every- 
thing,” said Bertha. 

113 



8 


Corner Work. 


114 

“ My work for tlie children has paid. Not 
that I am satisfied, but they have improved won- 
derfully,’^ went on Mabel. “As for Roy, I think 
Frank Hays has done more for him than any 
one else — and poor father’s accident; for he 
knows father is too near-sighted to be trusted 
alone near machinery. Aunt Mary Jane has 
done the plowing and harrowing with father, 
and Mr. Lindley drops good seed every day. I 
have spent most of my time in the kitchen, as 
my hands will testify, and over the sewing-ma- 
chine, which last I hate.” 

“Well, even Aunt Mary Jane admits you 
have made a beautiful housekeeper,” Bertha 
said, comfortingly. “And .you have done much 
besides.” 

“ There never was a more unpromising field 
than this town,” continued Mabel. “ I feel 
sorry for our minister. He is earnest and hard- 
working, but does not seem to reach the people. 
His sermons have too much of a manufactured 
ring, too bookish, and the air of the theological 
seminary still envelops him as a garment; yet 
he ’s a splendid man,” and here Mabel’s color 
deepened a little, as if she had said too much. 
“ These river towns are always hard. Three 
struggling Churches, and no one able to get the 
young people interested in any of them.” 

“ What have you done to help your minister?’^ 


Bertha's Plans. 


115 

Bertha had a way of asking direct questions 
that surprised people into honest answers. 

“Absolutely nothing, Bertha. To tell the 
truth, I have been selfishly absorbed in my own 
affairs, — mother’s loss, Roy, father, and the 
children. You know, charity begins at home.” 

“ Yes, but, as papa says, it does not end there. 
Not that I blame you ; but perhaps your life- 
work is making things grow and blossom right 
in this little ‘ corner.’ I ’m sure I ’ve seen a 
good many nice-looking young people.” 

“O, there is much that needs to be done,” 
acknowledged Mabel. “ The choir should be 
built up, and a young people’s society started, 
and something for the children. Mr. Tindley 
has tried all these things ; but he received no 
help, so they failed. In the city there is so 
much to do and so many earnest workers, there 
is a sort of esprit du corps ; but there is no in- 
spiration for anything in the country.” 

“I thought the spirit of the Master was all 
that was needed anywhere,” said Bertha, softly. 

“ I ’m ashamed of my excuses,” replied Ma- 
bel. “ Help us start these good things, Bertha. 
Aunt Mary Jane says we can do anything if we 
have grace and grit. Is n’t that so. Auntie?” for 
at that moment a night-capped head was thrust 
in at the door. 

“Yes, grace alone or grit alone won’t do. 


ii 6 Corner Work. 

It ’s like trying to row across the river with one 
oar. Some are always harping on grace ; but 
they are mostly spleeny Christians, good only 
to kill time at a prayer-meeting; while others 
make so much of grit they try to fight their way 
alone, and get beat. But what I came to say is, 
you must get to bed this minute, or you ’ll be 
sick with colds. It ’s folly to ask God to take 
care of you, and then sit around, ready for bed. 
I ’ve a notion to make you both some red-pep- 
per tea.” 

This sent the girls scrambling into bed, 
while Aunt Mary Jane retired with her tallow- 
candle, scolding as she went. 

The next week all the young people who at- 
tended Mr. Lindley’s Church, and others who 
did not, were invited to spend the evening at 
the Elder home. There was great speculation 
as to what this meant. Roy was much inter- 
ested ; for since he had given up dances and 
card-parties he had been a little lonely. Mabel 
had often helped Bertha entertain such a gath- 
ering in her own home, so the two were equal 
to the occasion. Bertha practiced some songs, 
and Roy got down his neglected old violin and 
helped with the accompaniment. 

Mabel recited nicely, and Jack and Bessie 
had a funny dialogue. It was thought in Ver- 
non impossible to have a good time without 


Bertha's Plans. 


117 

cards or dancing; but this little program proved 
very entertaining. This was followed by some 
games that were amusing, but not coarse, and 
then came refreshments. After supper Mr. 
Lindley asked Bertha to explain the workings 
of the young people’s society to which she be- 
longed, which she did in her winning way. 

“The social once a month would be nice 
here, it is so dull,” one of the girls said. 

“ I think the literary evening is much 
needed,” said one young man, who was hungry 
for such things. 

“And I ’m sure we all need the prayer-meet- 
ing once in two weeks,” said another. 

“ Suppose,” said Mabel, “ we organize a 
Young People’s Teague.” 

“ You can meet here every time,” spoke up 
Mr. Elder, for which Mabel gave him a grateful 
smile. 

“ Thank you,” said Mr. Tindley. “ This is 
such a large room, we might make it a League- 
room until we build our new church, when we 
will have a fine society hall of our own.” 

All this took the young people by storm, 
and thirty of the forty present joined the new 
society. 

“This is a new kind of a party, but we had 
a splendid time,” said Minnie Gray, who was 
considered the “ lightest-headed ” girl in town. 


1 1 8 Corner Work. 

The girls began to join the minister in plans 
for the new society, though much of the work 
came without planning. 

. “ Who is that sickly-looking young man ‘who 
lies by the window in the little house around 
the corner?’^ Bertha asked one day. 

‘‘ O, that is Billy Morris. He ’s been laid up 
with rheumatism for years. His sister takes in 
sewing and supports him. Mother used to do a 
good deal for them ; but I Ve been too busy,” 
was MabePs answer. 

‘‘ Well, we ^11 see if some of the young people 
can visit him and take him papers,” said Bertha. 

‘‘The truth is, when Billy, as they call him, 
first became a cripple, every one helped him ; but 
people have grown tired and forgotten him. 
We’ll take him something nice to eat this very 
afternoon,” said Mabel. 

If you could have seen how the poor invalid’s 
face brightened when he saw his visitors, you 
would have known how lonely he was. 

“ I can use my hands, and if I had some way 
I could help Bettie earn the living,” he said, as 
they talked together. 

“I have a scheme,” Bertha said to the next 
group of young people she met. “ Let us get 
him a printing-press that he can have by his 
bed. We can have a little entertainment next 
week.” 


Bertha's Plans. 


119 

Everybody agreed, and money was easily 
raised for the press and necessary material. 
Then the girls canvassed the town for adver- 
tisements and visiting cards, and Billy began 
a work that not only made many weary hours 
pass happily, but helped his overworked sister. 
Surprise parties broke out just after the measles 
had subsided, and Bertha proposed that the so- 
ciety surprise Widow Hubble, who had had a 
hard time, as her five children had been sick 
and work was scarce. 

One evening she heard a rap at her door, and, 
opening it cautiously, she was much astonished 
to see a crowd of young people in her little 
door-yard. 

“ We he having surprise parties, so thought 
we 'd make one on you,’’ Mr. Winters said, as 
they entered the front room. 

“ Take chairs, please,” the good woman said, 
looking hopelessly at her four chairs and the 
crowd before her. 

No one minded standing, and they had quite 
a merry hour. One of the boys had brought a 
large basket of apples, and the girls had papers 
of fresh doughnuts, and the Hubble children 
shared the feast with great zest. After the 
merry young people had gone, the widow hap- 
pened to go to the kitchen, where she found the 
table fairly groaning with its load. No one had 


Corner WoRtc. 


t^o 

brought much, but altogether it meant food for 
several weeks for this poor family. Besides this, 
a load of wood was in the shed, and a small gift 
of money in a little basket some one left on the 
sitting-room table. All this made the poor 
woman shed tears of joy and pray for the new 
society with a full heart. 

But most important of all was the revival. 
It started in a League-meeting, where several 
rose for prayers on invitation from the leader. 
At first evening prayer-meetings were held in 
the League parlor, and then they were taken to 
the church. Bertha organized a choir, and this 
drew in many outsiders. She and Mabel held 
afternoon meetings for the children, and Jack 
and Bessie were among the first to take a brave 
stand for Christ. 

‘‘It began with the children,’^ they said aft- 
erward. 

But that was the right place, and the crowd 
increased, and many found the new life. 

Minnie Gray discovered a way to help after 
she had given her heart to God. 

“I can’t do public work, but I can keep 
children while shut-in mothers come.” 

So she and a few other girls kept babies or 
helped overworked mothers with their evening 
work; so some enjoyed the services who had 
not attended Church at night for years. 


Bertrams Plans, 


121 


Roy was very helpful and thoughtful, but he 
resisted every appeal to come to a decision. 

“ Do n’t force him,” said Aunt Mary Jane. 
‘‘You can put a root in good earth and give it 
water and sunshine; but God must give the 
life-growth, after all.” 



CHflPTEt^ XlV. 

MABKIv’S SCHOOIv. 

ERTHA’S visit was longer tlian she 
had intended, because every week 
there seemed s-ome special reason 
why she should stay. As she did 
not expect to have time again for such a visit, 
she yielded all the more readily to Mabel’s en- 
treaties for her to remain. Bertha was not a 
brilliant girl, nor a student; but she was self- 
forgetful, and had ‘‘a heart at leisure from itself, 
to soothe and sympathize.” But I shall not give 
her too much credit. She had never felt the 
need of thinking of herself; for everybody loved 
her and took care of her. Flowers need sun- 
shine, and trees need storms, and God gives to 
each what is best. Bertha’s sweet, child-like 
faith rested and uplifted Mabel. 

wish I were like her,” she sighed, as she 



122 


Mabel's School. 


123 


sat by Mrs. Lewis ; for now the patient sufferer 
could not leave her bed. She was quietly wait- 
ing for the message that would make her one of 
the King^s household, and yet still interested in 
all around hen 

‘‘ I ’m willing to live as long as I can make 
any one happy, she said, when people pitied her. 

‘‘When I was a girl,’’ said Mrs. Lewis, “it 
was the fashion to read biographies ; a very help- 
ful thing, too. Well, I always tried to be, for a 
while, the last person I read about. But I found 
at last I was to be myself, and no one else. You 
are not asked to have Aunt Mary Jane’s energy 
and sturdy New England common sense, nor 
Bertha’s gift of faith, but to be the best Mabel 
Elder can be.” 

“ But even Jesus seemed to value Mary most. 
I Ve always wondered that he did not say an 
encouraging word to poor, overburdened Martha. 
Some one must serve, to give the Marys a chance 
to rest at the Master’s feet,” said Mabel, with a 
sigh. 

“There is where people misunderstand the 
lesson, dear,” went on Mrs. Lewis. “The Mas- 
ter’s gentle rebuke was not because Martha 
served, but because she did not manifest the 
right spirit in her service. If she had done it 
for love of the Master she would not have com- 
plained of her sister. It would have been better 


124 


Corner Wore. 


to be less troubled about house-work, and, like 
Mary, to hear the precious words that fell from 
the lips of the Lord. Learn to work at the feet 
of Jesus, listening to his words while you serve.’’ 

Mabel repeated this to Bertha the last even- 
ing they had a good-night talk together. 

“I think I have been too much like Martha, 
or I would have led the children farther into 
the light.” 

“ O, Mabel, dear, they were really Christians.” 

Do n’t you remember the yellow primroses 
that grew at the end of the veranda? The sun 
and wind got them all ready ; but when a child 
I used to breathe on them, and as they flew open 
I thought it was all my work. I ’ll never count 
my converts; I wouldn’t dare to; for perhaps 
other people got the soul all ready for just a 
touch of the Holy Spirit through my words. 
The mother, or the Sunday-school teacher, and 
the minister may have all been more instru- 
mental in the conversion of a soul than the one 
who influences the final decision, and counts his 
converts like — I ’d say scalps that an Indian car- 
ries after a fight, if it was not naughty,” said 
Mabel. “ Perhaps in the next world the minis- 
ter who says he has so many thousands of con- 
verts, and the one who hardly dares claim one, 
may be surprised if the beginning is as impor- 
tant as the final decision.” 


Mabel's School, 125 

There ’s nothing final until we are safe in 
heaven/’ said Bertha. 

Bertha was to enter the Deaconess Home in 
September, and expected to make the summer 
one of preparation. Before she left Vernon she 
planned a reunion at the Watson cottage, at Bay 
View. Mabel had no time to miss her cousin ; 
for the trustees of a country school had urged 
her to take a school for the spring term. 

“The money would help the Bay View plan; 
but I can ’t leave you all the work to do,” she 
said to her aunt. “Help with the washing will 
stop, now I can not read for Mrs. Lewis. You 
must not pay your board. Auntie.” 

“If I choose to rent my farm, and board 
round a spell, who’s to hinder? You go teach, 
and I will manage here,” was the decided answer. 

So the beginning of the spring term found 
Mabel the teacher in the Hard Scrabble District, 
which always had been considered the hardest 
school-field in Southern Indiana. The building 
was not in some barren lot, like prairie school- 
houses, looking like lost, neglected children, but 
on a picturesque hill-side, among the beautiful 
trees for which that region is noted. 

“You won’t stay long,” the good woman with 
whom Mabel was to board informed her. “The 
last teacher was pestered to death, and he ’s a 
man.” 


126 


Corner Work. 


“You don’t look strong enough to manage 
the boys of this neighborhood,” said the old 
farmer, doubtfully. 

“ Perhaps there are other ways besides whip- 
ping bad boys,” replied Mabel. 

“I do n’t ’low there is,” said Mr. Smith. “If 
you ain’t strict, the boys had better stay to home 
and work on the land.” 

Young William, better known as “Little 
Bill,” though he was as tall as his father, de- 
cided then and there that he would have some 
fun with this fine lady who did not believe in 
the birch. 

Mabel started off with a brave heart, after 
long and earnest prayer. At the school-house 
door she found a group of girls with books and 
dinner-baskets. Not a boy was to be seen. 

“We’re locked out,” announced the girls, 
after shyly returning their teacher’s pleasant 
greeting. 

“Never mind. There is a back door that is 
only bolted. Who’ll climb in and open that?” 
said Mabel. 

Sarah Wright volunteered, and soon the girls 
were choosing the best seats. As Mabel ex- 
pected, the bell was missing, but she had brought 
the Smith dinner-bell. The dozen boys, hidden 
behind as many trees, slunk in one by one, and 
the teacher asked them no questions. At recess, 


Mabel's School, 


127 


Mabel joined them in their games, to the sur- 
prise of the children. 

The next morning she went early to open 
and clean the school-house. She filled a pretty 
vase she had brought with wild flowers, and 
hung several bright pictures on the battered 
walls, coaxing Billy to bring the step-ladder and 
help her. The pupils were pleased, and from 
that day the vase was al\^ays filled with flowers. 

Every day she ate her dinner with the chil- 
dren, sometimes telling them instructive stories, 
or teaching them to play without too much rude- 
ness. Often she rambled into the woods or down 
to the river, giving lessons in botany or natural 
history to the boys and girls who followed her. 
Two weeks passed in a delightful way, when the 
neV wore off, and the older boys found being 
good very monotonous, and a restless, rebellious 
spirit broke out in the school. Mabel checked 
it promptly enough in the younger pupils by 
mild punishments and remarks; but to use Mr. 
Smith’s words, some of the big boys were 
aching for a licking.” While the rest bowed 
their heads during Mabel’s short, earnest prayer, 
some one in the back part of the room scraped 
his feet on the floor. The girls declared their 
fresh calicoes were spoiled by soft-soap or tar on 
their desks, and the little boys objected to sitting 
down on the crooked pins some one had pre- 


128 


Corner Work, 


pared for them. Mabel knew that Billy Smith 
was one of the ringleaders, from what she saw 
of his trying disposition at home. He knew the 
day of reckoning was near, so he determined to 
get all out of life possible. But something oc- 
curred that required prompt attention. Mabel 
happened to come upon John Watkins as he was 
saying words that were too shocking to leave 
unpunished. Mabel knew she was expected to 
keep up the barbaric practice of sending one of 
the boys after a whip and making the innocent 
suffer by seeing the punishment of the guilty. 
But the young teacher felt this was not the wisest 
thing to do. There was an unusual stillness at 
the close of school, when the teacher rose, with 
a pale, sad face, and said : 

‘‘One of our boys has been saying terrible 
words to-day. Of course, I could expel him or 
whip him; but neither of these things would 
make him sorry or get the wicked words out of 
our minds. In the morning we will try a better 
way. School is dismissed.” 

There was a subdued expectancy the next 
morning, and the culprit wore a hard, defiant 
look. After the opening exercises, in which 
Mabel prayed with so much feeling the hardest 
heart was touched, she stepped to the back door 
and brought in a pail of water, a bowl of soft- 
soap, and a cloth. 


Mabel's School, 


129 


‘‘John,’’ she said, “I’ve prayed to God to 
cleanse your heart; but you must have your 
mouth washed with soap and water.” 

“Won’t,” stoutly replied the offender. 

“Yes, you will. I know the older boys will 
help me maintain order. I appeal to you, young 
gentlemen. Bring John to the froni: seat,” said 
Mabel. 

Before he could resist, four strong boys had 
him on the bench, and he felt the force of a 
spring house-cleaning, until he promised to re- 
form his vicious habit. 

There was little laughing. The pupils took 
this object-lesson soberly, and never forgot the 
talk Mabel gave on purity of language. 

John gave no more trouble after that; but 
Billy Smith grew worse and worse. 

“You may remain after school,” Mabel said, 
one evening. Of course, he started out with a 
defiant air; but the teacher’s quiet “Take your 
seat,” mastered him in spite of himself. Now, 
at last, some one was going to get his deserts, 
and some of the boys staid and peeped through 
a convenient rat-hole in the side of the house. 
This is what they saw and heard: 

“ Billy, what do you think I ought to do 
with you?” the young teacher asked, sitting 
down by the big boy and stroking his stubby, 
yellow hair. 


9 


130 


Corner Work, 


“You will lick me, and father will, too. He 
always does,” was the answer. 

“And does that make you good?” the teacher 
asked. 

“No,” said Billy, reflectively. “ I do n’t dass 
act mean right away, ’cause I hate a thrashing ; 
but I feel hatefuller than ever inside.” 

“So I thought. Let us take a better way. 
Wouldn’t you like the hateful taken out?” 

“Not by soft-soap,” was the prompt answer. 

“No ; the badness is in your heart, and only 
Jesus can wash that clean. Kneel down with 
me, and we’ll ask him to give you a good heart,” 
said Mabel. 

Billy at first refused to stir ; but Mabel laid 
her hand on his shoulder in such an affectionate 
way, her eyes overflowing with such sympa- 
thetic tears, that the boy could not resist kneel- 
ing at her side. The prayer which the young 
girl poured out none of her hearers will ever 
forget, while the boy at her side sobbed like a 
conquered child. When she arose, Mabel had a 
glad, triumphant light in her eyes. By faith she 
claimed this soul for her own, and felt a pro- 
phetic thrill of what he w^ould do and be for 
God in the coming years. The boys outside 
stole away without exchanging a word, but each 
busy with his thoughts. 

“My brother, we called Jack, wanted to be 


Mabel's School. i 3 1 

^ Jolin ’ after he began a new life. Shall I call 
you ‘Will?’” said Mabel. 

“Yes,” replied the boy. 

“I shall depend on you, Will, to be my 
helper now and together they walked home- 
ward through the fairy-land woods. 



CHflPTEt^ XV. 

“COAIvS OF FIRE.’’ 

ABEL spent Sunday at home, and her 
weekly visits were looked forward 
to with pleasure by every one. She 
did not despise her aunt’s cooking 
after Mrs. Smith’s soda-biscuits and fried pota- 
toes; but most of all, she enjoyed the young 
people’s meeting Friday evening, and the Sun- 
day services. There was an early stage that 
passed the school-house, so Mabel was able to 
reach her work in time Monday morning. The 
minister drove out every Friday afternoon, — 
at first, on the pretense that he had calls 
to make that way; but he soon candidly told 
Mabel he wanted the pleasure of the little un- 
interrupted talk they had on their way home. 
He was learning that his quiet ‘‘corner,” which 
he simply regarded at first as a station to wait 
132 



''Coals of Fire: 


133 


for a big was a rich field, and one for 

which he needed more education and talent, in- 
stead of less. In her turn, Mabel would recount 
the experiences of the week and ask about Roy’s 
progress. His was not to be a sudden defined 
“conversion,” such as Mabel had experienced, 
but a gradual growth into the better life. Then 
Mr. Ivindley would talk on another subject, not 
strictly ministerial, but very near the heart; and 
here, too, he found a sympathetic listener, until 
the beautiful ride ended. 

Mabel had accomplished much in the Smith 
home besides the change in Will. Some of the 
family always attended Church now. 

“If you believe me. Miss Elder, afore you 
come we did n’t go to Church more than onc’t a 
year. Pa said the horses needed rest, even if 
they’d been to pasture all week; and he 
would n’t hitch up if it sprinkled, though, la me! 
we ’ve gone to the circus and the fair when it 
poured. I’ve mighty poor clothes, even if we 
do own this big farm ; but then you do n’t fix 
up much Sundays, and my bonnet’s very well 
since you trimmed it over. Pa’s going to give 
me the board money for clothes. He admires 
the neat way you always look. But I ain’t go- 
ing to wait for clothes or a new buggy. I ’ve 
starved my soul long enough. He 'sees what 
you have done for our Billy. He ’s a changed 


134 


Corner Work, 


boy, and his pa knows it. Since he’s given up 
tobacco pa says he won’t raise it any more. 
But, Miss Elder, you ’ve been the most comfort 
to mother.” 

And, indeed, it was old Grandma Billings 
who grieved most over the closing of school. 
She was a homely, bent old woman, whom 
everybody neglected; but she was a true dis- 
ciple, and Mabel soon found it out. They had 
many talks together, the younger learning pre- 
cious lessons of patience, and the elder receiving 
new life from the fresh vigor of the almost un- 
tried soul. Will had promised to read to 
grandma, as Mabel had done, and it was really 
touching to see how kind every one was to the 
old lady after they had been shown how. There 
was only one trial at school now. That was a 
great awkward fellow called Jim Sparks. He 
had red hair and stuttered, and belonged to a 
poor family that lived in an old flat-boat down 
the river. He was the butt of ridicule for the 
school, and this made him surly and revengeful. 

“ What is the matter?” Mabel asked one day, 
when she saw a group clustering around Jim’s 
dinner-pail at recess. 

“ We ’re going to play a trick on Jim, teacher,” 
spoke up one of the boys. 

“He put a mouse in Lizzie’s basket yester- 
day, and it nearly scar’t her to death when it 


''Coals of Fire, 


135 


jumped out. We ’re going to put some sticks 
and stones, a few fishworms and a toad, in his 
to-day, and see how he likes his dinner spoilt.” 

‘‘Are you sure, Lizzie, you did not provoke 
him first?” Mabel asked, softly. 

“I only asked for his hair, to color some eggs 
red with,” said Lizzie, not daring to meet her 
teacher’s searching gaze. 

“Then you were unkind, too; but if you had 
not been, there is a better way to punish him. 
Let us heap coals of fire on his head.” 

“What, Miss Elder, burn him?” asked one 
of the boys, with a grin. 

“The Bible says returning good for evil is 
heaping coals of fire. Let us try giving him a 
good dinner, and see what that will do.” 

They all agreed to their teacher’s plan. 

“ I have an orange and some cake from home,” 
said Mabel. 

“I have chicken,” said one. 

“And I have lemon-pie,” said another. 

When they brought their gifts to Mabel, and 
she opened the tin-pail, all they saw was two 
little cold potatoes! 

“Not much for a growing boy,” said Mabel. 
“No wonder he is not good-natured. He is 
hungry.” 

Jim never ate with the rest under the beech 
trees. He always made a pretense of staying in 


136 Corner Worn, 

by himself to look over liis geography lesson. 
To-day several of the children peeped to see 
what he would say. He gave an inelegant^ but 
expressive, exclamation of surprise, rubbed his 
eyes with his old calico shirt-sleeve, and then 
fell to eating like a half-starved dog. All soon 
disappeared except the orange and cake, at 
which he looked eagerly, and then put them in 
his pocket. 

Mabel was interested to know why he saved 
these, so that evening she walked across the 
fields to the poor little home, with the pretense 
of having some fine washing done. In the little 
cabin, which was the family living-room, she 
found a poor woman in a miserable-looking bed, 
with a baby on her arm. Jim was feeding a 
little child with Aunt Mary Jane’s cake. 

‘‘ The orange was so good Jimmy brought. 
I hope, ma’am, he did n’t lie; he never does. He 
said he found it,” said the sick woman. He 
takes care of me and the babies, and does the 
work, because I ’m having a bad time getting 
up. I won’t let him give up school, though, 
’cause you’ve been the only teacher that hain’t 
had a pick at him, and he ’s getting over his 
stuttering.” 

“Indeed he is,” said Mabel, eagerly, looking 
now with admiration on the homely, awkward 
boy, to whom his little sister was clinging. 


Coals of Fife.' 


137 


frightened by a strange face. ‘‘He will over- 
come the trouble in time if he follows my direc- 
tions. The orange was in his dinner-pail. I ’m 
glad to know he is such a good son, for he has 
done splendidly in his studies.’^ 

How the pale face glowed with pride, and 
how the freckled face beamed with pleasure at 
these words of praise! 

After that, Mabel went many times across the 
fields to help the poor mother, and every day 
Jim found something good in his old dinner-pail. 
The father was generally off somewhere, being 
what his neighbors called “shiftless;’’ but Ma- 
bel saw in James, as she called him, his mother’s 
energy, and she made every effort to help him 
the last few weeks. By giving him lessons in 
elocution, after school, she enabled him to mas- 
ter, to a great degree, his impediment in speech. 
As for his surly disposition, he became so good- 
natured, under kind treatment, that Lizzie re- 
marked : 

“ I guess the best way to make a mean boy 
good is to give him lots of good things to eat,” 

Mabel had worked hard; but it had been so 
much a labor of love that she saw the last day 
come with regret. There was a closing exhi- 
bition, of course, and, in spite of the intense 
heat and the “haying,” the parents and com- 
mitteemen were out in full force, and the pupils 


138 Corner Work. 

covered themselves with glory. Even James 
gave a recitation in a manner that did credit to 
himself and his instructor, and made his mother, 
who had been brought to the festival, shed 
tears of joy and pride. The exercises were in 
the yard, where nature had formed a natural 
amphitheater. Then came the ‘‘ basket-dinner,’’ 
with fried chicken, cold meat, salads, pies, and 
cakes, such as only Hoosiers know how to make 
and be merry over under the whispering old 
trees. 

“It’s mighty queer how you’ve held your 
scholars through the heat, potato-dropping, and 
all. I never saw such a well-mannered school ; 
yet they say you never whip,” said Mr. Slocum, 
the head committeeman. 

“ I believe God has helped me. I have tried 
to teach and govern depending on him,” Mabel 
felt bound to answer. 

“Ea, me! you talk like a minister. Maybe 
if we prayed more and hit less it would be bet- 
ter,” said Mr. Slocum. 

As soon as Mabel returned home, prepara- 
tions were made in earnest for Bay View. Roy 
was to spend the whole summer there to finish 
his preparation for entering college in the fall. 
Uncle John’s cottage was large enough to ac- 
commodate all who came, with the good-na- 
tured crowding which is only fun at such a 


Coals of Fire.' 


139 


place. The girls helped Christie with the cook- 
ing and house- work; so she enjoyed many of the 
advantages with the rest. Frank Hays took his 
vacation at Bay View the same time Mr. Lindley 
did, and they became warm friends, though of 
very different temperaments. Mr. Elder and 
Aunt Mary Jane were there during the Assem- 
bly, and the good woman said: 

‘Ht was enough to make a cork leg ache to 
be on the go so much. Young folks be delicate 
when it comes to work, but they can run,” she 
commented. “ I ’m so tuckered out, seeing and 
hearing so much, I must go home and rest my- 
self doing up the fruit.” 

So she and Mr. Elder took the children back 
to their pretty river home, while Mabel staid to 
rest her way, feasting on all she heard, and 
“gathering kindling-wood for winter fires,” as 
she expressed it. I wish I could stop to describe 
it all, — the boat-rides, the rambles, and the good 
times these young people had. Then the con- 
certs and lectures, and, best of all, the uplifting 
prayer-meetings and Dr. Washburn’s delightful 
lessons. But these green places are only rest- 
oases in the onward pilgrimage — places for 
preparation for coming storms, perhaps. And 
the hour came when the happy household had 
to separate, each going refreshed and strength- 
ened to his own field of labor. 



CHAPTEPJ XVI. 

CHRISTIE’S HOME. 

T had been two years since Christie 
had left the farm, and in that time 
she had not been home. Now she 
was to have a month at the dear old 
place, and during the journey from Bay View 
by boat and cars she had time for some earnest 
thinking. 

Her father had not had the success most of 
his neighbors enjoyed. “Jake Holland,” as he 
was called, had always met with “contrary 
luck,” as he said, though no one was more re- 
spected than he. 

He spent three years in the army, where, of 
course, he contracted rheumatism enough to 
burden life, but not the pension-list. When his 
neighbors were getting “war prices,” the chinch- 
bugs took his wheat off his hands. 

140 



Christie's Home. 


141 


The Holland farm lay on a pretty, wooded 
knoll, between long sweeps of rich prairies. 
His neighbors enjoyed passing Mr. Holland’s 
picturesque home ; but in the rich lowlands they 
reaped the great harvests. So it had taken 
years to pay for the ‘‘eighty,” and sending the 
children to college had not been thought of. 
Joe and Ben, tall young fellows of eighteen and 
twenty, were needed to run the farm, or to work 
by the day for other people. Katie, now six- 
teen, was her mother’s helper when not at the 
village school. Christie had been obliged to 
work wherever opportunity offered, and was glad 
to exchange this hard and poorly paid labor for 
constant employment in Chicago. At home, 
when out at work, she was just “neighbor Hol- 
land’s daughter, here to help;” but in the city 
she felt the social distinction keenly. But of 
late a new thought had entered her mind. 

In an address at Bay View some one had 
said: “We are all servants. It is the true ob- 
ject of life, with the dew-drop as well as the 
star, with the man who writes the book as well 
as the man who tans the leather to bind it. The 
Great One of heaven came not to be ministered 
unto, but to minister. Do not scorn the word 
servant. In a good cause it is a title worthy of 
a king. The only difference between the rich 
and the poor young man is, one is paid in ad- 


142 


Corner Wore. 


vance, and one gets his money after he earns it. 
One has no more right to idleness than the 
other.” 

Christie was beginning to feel glad that her 
own future would be what her own efforts, with 
God’s help, would make it. She turned home- 
ward with no complaints about ‘‘working out;” 
but with real satisfaction that she was among 
the workers. “Great opportunities make great 
obligations to others,” some one had said, and 
Christie was wondering how some of the things 
she had enjoyed could be passed on. 

The spring-wagon was waiting at the station, 
and Joe was holding the head of a young horse 
as the train blustered in. Katie was waiting on 
the platform, and she gave her tall sister a warm 
welcome. Returning this, Christie ran to her 
brother, who looked as frightened over her 
kisses as Prince did at the puffing of the engine. 

The homeward ride wore off the feeling of 
embarrassment the young people had felt at first^ 
and by the time the shady lane was reached, Joe 
and Katie felt “Sis” was the same dear girl that 
had left them. Mothers see no outward change, 
so Christie was still “my dear child” when Mrs. 
Holland clasped her in her arms. Mr. Holland’s 
welcome was very quiet, but satisfied Christie, 
as did Ben’s hearty “Glad to see you, old girl! 
My, how stylish you look!” 


Christie's Home, 143 

The Holland family were not given to long 
letters, and the supper-dishes stood unwashed 
while mother and daughter talked over births 
and marriages, and later, when Mr. Holland and 
the boys came, of crops and farm improvements. 
Christie had much to tell of Bertha, Mabel, 
Aunt Mary Jane, and of the lovely time at Bay 
View. 

“Dear me! the clock has struck eleven,’’ 
said Mr. Holland, starting at last. “Boys, we 
must be up by sunrise; we have a big day’s 
work. Where ’s my little lamp, ma?” 

“Here, pa,” said Christie, reaching it from 
the shelf. “ I ’m ashamed of my thoughtlessness ; 
but here ’s the Bible, and after prayers we ’ll all 
be in bed in no time.” 

The boys grinned at this, and Mr. Holland 
looked a little confused as he answered: 

“The truth is. Sissy, we don’t have family 
prayers any more. Not that we ’ve given up 
praying; but country folks have so little time, 
you know. Still, the Lord has been merciful in 
returning our first-born, and we must return 
thanks to-night.” 

Christie had been surprised and shocked at 
this confession; but she said nothing, as she 
handed her father the Bible, opened at his fa- 
vorite Psalm. 

“Christie, we need you,” her mother said. 


144 


Corner Worn. 


when the rest had slipped away, after their 
father’s touching prayer. “It is so hard to make 
both ends meet on a farm, we ’ve given up ev- 
erything but digging and slaving for money. 
The boys grow rougher every year, and Katie’s 
lightness is a real trial to me.” 

“The memory of pa’s prayers has done more 
than anything else to keep me in the right way 
these two years,” answered Christie ; and she 
saw where her first bit of work lay. 

From that evening, just after supper, before 
the boys started to the barn for the “chores,” or 
Katie flitted oflF to a neighbor’s house, Christie 
brought out the Bible, always selecting a good 
chapter, remembering Joe’s distaste for the gene- 
alogies. Christie’s next “helping” began the 
morning after her home-coming. 

“You are tired, Christie. Don’t get up for 
our early breakfast,” her mother had said, as 
she had often done before. 

Christie was tired ; but she knew her sum- 
mer had not been half so exhausting as her 
mother’s, so the next morning, when she heard 
her father call the boys, she got up, and break- 
fast was well under way when her mother stepped 
into the big kitchen, which was dining-room and 
family sitting-room as well. 

“ Why, Christie, you work all the year. You 
must rest when at home,” said her mother. 


Christie's Home, 


145 

‘‘When do you not work?’’ asked Christie, 
turning the savory bacon. 

“O, mothers don’t expect vacations,” an- 
swered Mrs. Holland, with a smile. But it was 
very pleasant to have Christie’s efficient help 
in the kitchen and in the creamery, and with 
the accumulated sewing the busy season had 
crowde'd out. 

“Joe, mother has failed dreadfully the last 
two years,” Christie said, a few days after her 
arrival. “She works too hard.” 

“ Katie is a lazy little piece,” said Joe. “ She 
do n’t help as you did.” 

“Things look different to me after the con- 
veniences of city life. No wonder ma has 
trouble with her back. What’s the reason pa 
don’t have the well by the house fixed? It’s 
too far to carry w^ter from the barn.” 

“ The pump broke, so we moved down the 
good pump, until some one had time and money 
to get Steve to mend the old one.” 

“For shame!” cried Christie. “You boys 
are more able to carry five pails of water for the 
cattle than ma one ; and the cistern leaks too.” 

“Pa don’t think of those things, he has so 
much to look after,” answered Joe. 

“ You must help me take care of mother. 
I ’ve brought a little money to fix things. I ’ll 
pay for the pump and cistern, and I ’ll get you 
10 


146 


Corner Work. 


anything you want if you will see mother has 
wood and kindlings. Think of a delicate woman 
splitting wood, with three men around!’^ said 
Christie, indignantly. 

‘‘ But I want a watch,” said Joe, heeding 
only the first part of Christie’s remarks. 

‘‘Very well; you shall have a good silver 
watch, Christmas, if you will promise to see to 
mother’s wood-box for a year.” 

“Agreed,” Joe cried. “You see, mother is 
willing to burn brush, so we can sell the cord- 
wood ; but there ought to be a shelter over it, 
and I’ll see to it all, for a watch.” 

“ If you boys made a practice of carrying a 
little wood to the box as you went in, it would save 
mother and Katie many steps, especially as you 
took the wood-shed for the machinery. I know,” 
she added, gently, “ I was just as careless when 
I was home ; but one never values a mother 
until he or she is out in the world alone. I ’ll 
wear my old cloak another winter, and get your 
watch, and pay for what needs to be done, if you 
will see to the wood and water for a year.” 

“All right,” replied Joe, well pleased at 
being paid for what he knew he ought to do 
anyway. 

Before a week even Mr. Holland began to 
help mother a little, and Christie rejoiced in 
seeing the patient face look less careworn. Some 


Christie's Home. 


147 


things were bought for the kitchen which 
helped much in saving labor, besides what 
seemed to Mr. Holland a sinful waste of money. 
A cheap hammock and a croquet set soon 
adorned the front yard. 

“ Do n’t throw away your money, Sissy,” Mr. 
Holland said, as he leaned over the gate, watch- 
ing the boys, with Kate and another young girl, 
enjoying a spirited game of croquet. 

‘‘ Pa, that is such a lovely place for a ham- 
mock, under the maples. We girls sewed there 
to-day, and didn’t lose a minute. In fact, we 
worked faster than in the warm house. And, 
pa, you know the boys have a way of slipping 
off ; I found it was to use Hartford’s croquet set. 
Our boys deserve a little fun, for they work 
hard.” 

“Yes, yes,” sighed the old man ; “but to my 
thinking, knocking balls is as hard as hoeing.” 

“Did you ever hear the boys laugh and shout 
so in the corn-field?” asked Christie, archly. 
“Perhaps that is why so many boys leave the 
farm as soon as they can. ‘All work and no 
play,’ is hard for boys, when there are boat-rides, 
lectures, concerts, and everything, after work, in 
cities. Though I hope our boys won’t ever find 
this out. How beautiful this prairie is !” she 
said, pointing to fields that stretched as far as 
the eye could reach, the green and gold turning 


148 


Corner Work. 


into purple billows in the distance, like a quiet 
ocean. 

“Yes, and the woods and hills to the right,’^ 
said her father. “It’s good enough for me, and 
if there is any way to keep my boys at home, 
Christie, I ’ll do it. I do keep them pretty close. 
Joe shall go to that picnic he ’s teasing about^ 
if I have to get a hand a day. I wish. Sis, you 
could stay home.” 

“When I can get a school here, I will,” she 
said, brightly ; and then she was called to join 
the next game. 

A few miles from Hartman’s Corner the 
farmers were rich old settlers, and enjoyed the 
luxuries of life with the beauties of rural scenes; 
but near Christie’s home land was poorer, and 
it was only the prose of farm-life. The young 
people who could get away left, and the others 
were none too contented. 

“Thank fortune, there’s preaching at the 
school-house to-day,” Katie said, on Christie’s 
first home Sunday. “ Now you ’ve brought me 
a white dress, and helped me make it, I ’d like 
to wear it before Christmas ; though it ’s pen- 
ance for the sins of two weeks to hear Brother 
Gray preach.” 

‘“Katie!” said her mother, reprovingly. 

“Well, mother, you know you nod sometimes 
yourself,” answered naughty Katie. 


Christie's Home. 


149 


He always reads his sermons, and they are 
a little long and dry for summer,’^ said Mr. 
Holland. 

The ride in the spring-wagon seemed a nice 
preparation for a sermon to Christie, whose heart 
was uplifted by the beauty around her, the flam- 
ing flowers by the way, and the music of the 
birds. The others saw only a dusty country 
road, losing all the rest. 

Through the slow, tedious reading of a really 
fine essay, Christie could not help thinking of 
the pretty sister beside her. How could she ever 
get interested in God’s Word with so few helps ! 
Then an idea struck Christie, as she looked 
over the goodly number of young people in the 
congregation. There was quite an addition to 
the little gathering in the fact that the Hartford 
young people were there. They belonged to 
the village Church, further on. The older ones 
were off at college, and during their vacations 
seldom came to the ‘‘Corners.”' They never 
thought of feeling superior to their old country 
school-mates ; but many chose to think they 
did, so vrere not cordial when they did come. 
Christie was welcomed warmly enough, the fact 
of her “working out” offsetting the supposed 
superiority of city experiences. 

“You’ll find it dull enough here,” said 
Madge Spears. “Not even a Sunday-school.” 


Corner Work, 


150 


“Why can’t we have one?” spoke up Chris- 
tie, quickly. “Let us young people meet here 
every Sunday afternoon. Church days we could 
bring a lunch, and eat under the trees. There 
are a good many children in the families near. 
Won’t you help, Mr. Hartford?” This last to 
the young man who was studying at the theo- 
logical school. 

“ I’m here to rest,” he answered, with a 
laugh. “You mustn’t expect work of me now, 
Christie.” 

“Nor of me,” said Mary Hartford. “We go 
back in a month, you know.” 

“But you could help start things. See how 
many young people are out,” begged Christie. 

“ We belong to the other side,” answered 
Mary. 

She meant the other side of the prairie ; but 
Christie chose to take it in her old spirit, and 
turned away proudly, thinking too many people 
belonged to “ the other side” — the upper side of 
life — to suit her. 

In a moment the better spirit conquered, and 
Christie found many who promised to come 
next Sunday to help start the school. Through 
the week Christie prayed and planned about it. 
She hoped from it a Young People’s League 
would grow. She longed to bring something 
helpful to these young people, especially her 


Christie's Home, 15 i 

wild brothers. She wrote immediately to Mr. 
Watson, asking for a few Lesson Leaves. Fri- 
day she coaxed Katie to walk to the post-office, 
at the “Corners’’ store, where the stage left the 
mail. Sure enough, there were several packages. 
A dozen Gospel Hymns, a package of Leaflets, 
and one of Sunday-school papers, with a few 
Journals^ for teachers, and some picture-cards 
for the little ones. In the letter from Mr. Wat- 
son, he returned Christie’s dollar, begging her 
to consider these little helps a donation to the 
work they both loved. 

Christie felt rich indeed. Through the week 
she and Madge agreed to send word to all the 
neighboring farmers, and they hoped for a good 
beginning. Mr. Holland was much interested, 
and promised to help all he could. Christie did 
not dare ask the boys outright to go, for fear of 
a point-blank refusal ; but she was kinder than 
usual, and was sure they would go. But when the 
hour came they were nowhere to be found, and 
the rest of the family went off quite troubled. 

Alas for Christie’s Sunday-school supplies 
and for her well-prepared lesson ! 

The Slocum boy had opened the school- 
house, according to agreement, and then disap- 
peared. The room was empty when Christie 
walked in. 

“ It ’s a powerful hot day,” said her father, 


15 ^ 


Corner Worn. 


consolingly, while Mrs. Holland could hardly 
keep back the tears in her sympathy for Chris- 
tie’s disappointment. The eager young worker 
was more puzzled than disappointed. She had 
for some time been trusting Jesus for everything, 
and the answers to her prayers had been very 
direct and satisfying. She had yet to learn 
when the child grows stronger it is not so often 
carried over rough places. 

“Well, pa,” ‘she said, bravely, “the Sunday- 
school lesson will help us. Let us go over it 
while we are here.” 

Just then the welcome sound of wheels was 
heard, and in a moment Madge came in, fol- 
lowed by half a dozen young people and several 
children. 

“ I ’m late ; but I brought enough to make 
up for it. As long as our family flourishes the 
district school will be kept up,” she said, in her 
bright way. 

In a few moments Widow Wright came with 
her two bashful little girls. 

“Twenty in all. Not a bad beginning,” 
said Mr. Holland. 

“Father, you pray,” said Christie; and he 
did, earnestly, and then some happy songs floated 
out among the whispering leaves. 

The older people naturally fell to Mr. Hol- 
land’s care, Madge took the little ones in the 


Christie 's Home. 


153 


cool entry, and soon had them all attention to 
her channing stories, while Christie taught the 
young people in her earnest, winning way. 

After the lesson, and some spirited singing, 
there was a lingering to talk, as is the pleasant 
country fashion, and every one promised to 
come again. 

Christie went home thankful for this begin- 
ning, but grieved over her brothers. She had 
found that profane words, as well as tobacco, 
soiled their lips, and she felt, unless they were 
soon reached, their more noble qualities would 
be gone. “ If I could reach Joe’s heart, Ben 
would follow,” she was thinking to herself, as 
she and Katie washed under the apple-tree, by 
the back door, Monday morning. 

‘‘ Why, there ’s the wagon, from the field, 
without a 'load,” Katie said. 

“ Yes,” said Christie, looking up. ‘‘Father’s 
driving, and some one ’s lying on the wagon- 
bed. Joe ’s hurt.” 

Christie was at the gate before she finished 
this sentence. Joe lifted himself up, white with 
the effort. 

“ I was pitching grain, and threw down my 
fork, and then forgot and jumped on it,” said 
he, faintly. 

“ Christie, you and ma tend to his foot. It ’s 
bled too much now,” said Mr. Holland. “Just 


154 


Corner Work. 


my luck, to lose my best hand when we ’re push- 
ing to get ready for threshers.” 

‘‘ Father, I ’ll help as soon as Joe is all right,” 
answered Christie. 

Joe groaned over his foot as the boot was 
taken off, and the hot water, then salt-pork, ap- 
plied. Then, as soon as he felt better, he grieved 
over his being laid up, — not for the loss in the 
field, but because the promised excursion must 
be given up. 

Christie left the wash for Katie to finish, and 
took her place as driver on the wagon, letting 
Ben take Joe’s fork. All the time she was think- 
ing: “Now I can have a chance to win Joe’s 
heart.” 



chapter XVII. 

FRESH AIR. 

S if you had n’t enough to do now,” 
growled Joe, as he hopped on one 
foot after a book. 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Holland, you 
girls have the berrying — we need the sauce — and 
you will have to pick so as to sell enough to buy 
sugar. And threshing ’s coining on. And, Chris- 
tie, you must go to the lake. You ’re just as 
good as any girl on this prairie ; and you ’ve got 
to hold up your head, and show them working 
out has n’t changed you.” 

The mother, too, had some foolish pride over 
the ‘‘hired girl” question. 

“ It ’s funny, when we do n’t get a letter once 
a month, that three important ones should come 
to-day, all because I took up my cross and 
walked after the mail,” remarked Katie. 



155 


Corner Work. 


156 

“ Mother, you must go to Aunt Sarah’s. 
Just think of it! You have not seen grandma 
for three years ; and now she ’s coming half-way 
to meet you. I know pa can spare that much 
money, the barley is so good,” said Christie, 
reading again Aunt Sarah’s letter urging her 
sister’s visit. 

‘‘ But the work, children,” began Mrs. Hol- 
land. 

‘‘Just the time when I ’m home. Since you 
want me to go to the lake with the Hartford 
crowd, I will, if you will go to Aunt Sarah’s 
v/hen I come home.” 

“ Well, if pa is willing,” replied the mother, 
her eyes shining at the thought of a visit with 
her dear old mother at her sister’s pleasant home. 
Then Christie read again the note from Mary 
Hartford, which was: 

“ Dear Christie;, — We are going to camp again at 
Clear Lake. We have room in the girls’ tent for two 
more, and have selected you and Madge. Do n’t disap- 
point us. We will have a grand time. Your friend, 

“Mary.” 

Christie smiled over this invitation. How 
she used to envy the girls on “the other side” 
who went camping together! They had never 
thought of asking her before; and now, that she 
did not care particularly about it, she was to be 
one of them. She would go to please her 


Fresh Air. 


157 


mother, and perhaps she could find some little 
work for the Master there. 

“What will you answer Miss Watson?’’ asked 
Mrs. Holland. 

“Dear me! how selfish I am, to think only 
of your visit and my pleasure, while the people 
she speaks of need so much.” 

“Who needs now?” asked Mr. Holland, who 
had just come in from the field for supper. 

“ Father, there are some good people in Chi- 
cago who have started a Fresh-air Fund. They 
send poor children and sick people and over- 
worked shop-girls to the country, or some place 
on the Lake, every summer. O, you do n’t know 
how dreadful it is in those close, high buildings 
in summer! Poor people huddle together, five 
or six in a room, — in a little room overlooking 
a narrow court, where the air is never cool or pure. 
In our Church our young people send off as 
many as they can. They take up a collection, 
or they give an excursion or an entertainment, 
and raise the money. But, of course, they can’t 
get enough to pay board, so they find good peo- 
ple in the country who will entertain these poor 
folks for charity’s sake,” was Christie’s answer. 

“In the country the feed would n’t be much,” 
mused the farmer. 

“No; it’s the bother having strangers 
around,” said his wife. 


158 


Corner Work. 


‘‘Yes; but some are able to work for their 
board,” said Christie, eagerly. “ We sent a poor 
sewing-girl, who had a dreadful cough, to a farm 
on the lake-shore. Well, she helped so much 
she is there yet, and she ’s well, and earning 
good wages. Father, Bertha is home now, and 
she has found three more real pitiful cases, and 
she has the money to send them to the country. 
No doubt she denied herself something that her 
father wanted to get for her. She does n’t know 
where to send them, and she begs us to find 
homes for them. Miss Jane is a sewing-girl, 
a dear little old maid ; but she ’s very hard 
of hearing. Then there ’s an old lady, nearly 
blind, and her little granddaughter, who is a 
cash-girl, and has been sick. Then there ’s a 
young mother, with a baby that must die, the 
doctor says, unless he gets to the country at 
once.” 

‘‘Let her come here,” said Mrs. Holland, her 
mother-heart coming to the rescue. 

“If pa can spare a horse, I will drive around 
and see what can be done,” said Christie. 

“ I will help take care of the baby,” said Joe, 
who was getting very tired of his quiet life. 

Christie was not very successful in her efforts. 
Madge was going to the lake, so her mother 
said she could not have any more to do for. The 
Robinson family was expecting company. At 


Fresh Air. 


159 


last, Mrs. Smith consented to take Miss Jane, if 
she would sew a little for her board. 

“ I ’ll stop at Widow Wright’s anyway,” 
Christie decided, as she drove home. The poor 
woman listened with deep interest. 

‘‘ I ’d admire to have the old lady and little 
girl a few weeks, for mother’s sake. She ’s in 
heaven, and sometimes I ’m ’most sick ; I long 
for something to do for her sake. The children 
will do all they can for the little girl. I can 
take her just as easy as not, for I ’ve plenty of 
washing to do this summer ; and I ’ve a cow, 
and eggs, and chickens, and garden-stuff, and 
flowers. O, do let them come!” 

“It will be lovely here for, them,” cried 
Christie, looking around the neat little place 
with delight. “ I am sure God will reward you 
for your kindness.” 

“Why, it’s nothing at all, to give something 
to eat to an old lady and a sick little girl,” said 
Mrs. Wright, surprised at Christie’s thinking it 
so much, 

“That’s it; the widow’s mite outweighed the 
rest,” Mr. Holland said, when Christie told her 
story. “Where will we get a cradle, ma?” 

“Ben will bring the old one from the garret,” 
said the mother, with a smile, as if seeing again 
the sweet baby faces once pillowed there. Two 
little golden heads were long ago cradled on a 


i6o 


Corner Work. 


satin pillow, beneath a tangle of wild roses and 
ivy, in the country grave-yard. There was no 
danger of the door of this home being shut to 
the mother with a sick baby. 

If there is anything crosser than a bear 
with a sore head, it is a boy with a sore foot,’’ 
Katie said, the next day, when she found Joe 
unusually trying. Just then Christie came in, 
with an old violin. 

‘‘Joe, have you forgotten your music?” she 
asked. 

“I’ve not practiced for months,” he an- 
swered, his eyes brightening. “ Been too busy. 
Now ’s my time.” 

“Horrors!” screamed Katie, as he drew the 
bow across the dry strings, cat fashion. 

“Say, Joe, you used to play some of the 
Gospel Hymns. Practice up, so we can sing of 
evenings,” suggested Christie. 

So he twanged away, until they were able 
to sing with him nicely, to his mother’s great 
delight, who thought she had the most talented 
children in the world. Sunday, Joe begged to 
go to Church, even if he must take his crutch. 

“O, Joe, will you take your violin, and play 
at Sunday-school?” asked Christie. 

After proper hesitation and coaxing, Joe con- 
cluded that he would. 

“ There is to be a Sunday-school,” did not 


Fresh Air. i 6 i 

create much enthusiasm ; but ‘‘ there is one,’’ 
was a different matter. Those who waited until 
it was a success, now said: “ What a good thing 
it was we started a Sunday-school !” 

Even the minister doubted at first; but if he 
was not much interested in his own sermons, he 
was in the Bible, and the young people, whom 
he taught every other Sunday, soon learned to 
love him and enjoy his teaching. The young 
people in that neighborhood were good singers, 
and when Joe led, with his really fine playing, 
the music was a great feature of the school. 

“Miss Christie,” the minister said, that even- 
ing, when he stopped at the Holland home for 
supper, “your Sunday-school is a great sur- 
prise as well as pleasure to me. It is so hard 
to start anything of this kind in the country.” 

Then Christie told him gently how young 
people in the country needed Sunday-schools 
and young people’s societies. 

“You see, in the city, or village, there is 
more preaching and prayer-meeting and lec- 
tures, and more opportunity to get good books 
to read. Many farmers take several stock or 
farm journals, but not a single religious paper.” 

“I hadn’t thought of this,” said Mr. Gray, 
and he blushed a little ; for he had taken his 
poorest sermons to his country appointment, and 
he resolved, then and there, to give his best work 

II 


i 62 


Corner Work, 


where it was most needed, not where the most 
people congregated and where he received the 
most money. 

Madge came the next day to take Christie 
with her to the lake. Each had a roll of bed- 
ding, and a large basket of good things for the 
table. Mr. Holland had no horses to spare for 
excursions, so Christie had not taken that beau- 
tiful ride for years. She was in ecstasies over 
the scene when she reached the camp. Nature, 
in a lofty frame of mind, may have made grander 
attempts; but nothing lovelier than the lakes of 
Wisconsin can be found under the sun. Green 
to the water’s edge, reflecting the wooded banks 
and heavens as a mirror. Clear Eake is fairest of 
them all. 

The shore was dotted here and there with 
camps, and at a Very gypsy-like one Christie 
and Madge stopped. They were received with 
a cordial welcome, the newcomers at first a 
little shy over the city cousins visiting the Hart- 
ford family. 

The boys were oflf fishing, expecting a treat 
of fried fish. They returned with a string of 
everything but fish, and helped devour cold ham 
and chicken as readily as if they had earned 
their supper. The very first evening, when 
they had planned a moonlight excursion, there 
came the brisk thunder-storm that usually wel- 


Fresh Air, 


163 


comes campers. The other girls were some- 
what frightened over, or rather under, the sway- 
ing canvas; but Christie enjoyed it, falling 
asleep to the music of the dashing rain, even 
if a drop occasionally struck her nose. 

The days that followed were lazy, happy days, 
rambling, boating, fishing, or reading under the 
trees, and Christie gave herself fully to the pleas- 
ure of being “one of the girls as she could not 
have done a year before. Her temptation was self- 
consciousness, feeling herself and all of her re- 
lations in life too keenly, missing that rest that 
is not “quitting the busy career,’^ but is “the 
fitting of self to one^s sphere.’^ Christie de- 
cided to go home Saturday night, so as to be at 
Sunday-school, and ready on Monday to welcome 
the city visitors. 

“ We will all miss your company, and the 
girls your help,’’ the young minister said. “ I ’m 
ashamed I held back about the Sunday-school. 
After this, I ’ll try not to give my religious zeal 
a vacation while I am away from the seminary. 
I hope I won’t be sent to the country. I would 
die, with nothing to do.” 

“There’s where you are mistaken,” said 
Christie. “ The brightest, most enthusiastic 
ministers should go to the country. Do n’t our 
best men come from farms ? Look at the min- 
isters and college presidents, to say nothing of 


164 


Corner Work. 


some of the best men of the White House. But 
this won’t always be so, if young people do n’t 
have more help ; for evil now finds country boys, 
as well as town boys, and we ’ve got to meet it.” 

“You ought to be a preacher, Christie,” said 
young Hartford. “ I think myself we might 
start a League here, get up a Chautauqua Cir- 
cle, with perhaps a choice little circulating 
library of books and magazines. I hear a new 
society, not unlike the Christian Endeavor, has 
been started at Cleveland this summer. Per- 
haps to follow its plans may help us here.” 

Christie had heard all about this at Bay 
View, and she was glad to enlighten the rest, 
and arrange for a meeting of the young people 
at an early date. 

A trip to the island was made in honor of 
Christie’s departure, and on her return she found 
Ben, with the buggy, waiting to take her home 
in the moonlight. Christie’s heart was so happy 
she began singing, and before long Ben’s rich 
baritone joined in. The first verse of “ What a 
friend we have in Jesus,” floated on the still 
air, and then Christie said, gently: 

“O, Ben, I wish you knew how true that is, 
to feel that Jesus is really your friend !” 

“I don’t know that I stand in need of any 
more friends,” was the boy’s discouraging reply. 

“ O, Ben, I had hoped you would want to be 


Fresh Air, 165 

a better boy,” said his sister, sobbing with dis- 
appointment in spite of herself. 

“Sissy, I do,” said Ben, penitently. “I’d 
give anything to be like you. What’s come 
over you, Christie ?” 

“Nothing, only I’m trying harder to be like 
Jesus than I used to. O, Ben, will you try too? 
I ’ll pray every day for you. I so long to have 
you a Christian.” 

“You’re the first person who ever asked me 
to be one,” said Ben, thoughtfully. “I ’ll think 
it over, Christie.” 

This was a good deal for Ben to promise, and 
it satisfied his sister; and she talked pleasantly 
the rest of the way, not avoiding religion, but 
not urging it. 

Monday, the spring-wagon went for the city 
guests. Miss Jane was dropped down at the 
Smith home, to go in raptures over the beauti- 
ful farm, and to grow fat on good country living. 
If any one regretted her coming, she was too 
deaf to hear it, and her child-like enjoyment 
soon won the whole family. Mrs. Smith, being 
of a thrifty turn of mind, had plenty of sewing 
ready; but this made Miss Jane enjoy the 
month all the more, and she never had to work 
beyond her strength. The old lady and over- 
worked child found a little paradise in the 
widow’s home, and she herself great happiness 


Corner Work. 


1 66 

in caring for the strangers, ‘‘for mother's sake.” 
Poor Mrs. Tilton cried for joy when Mrs. Hol- 
land took the sick baby in her motherly arms, 
and said: 

“My Joe once was worse than this, and look 
at him now.” 

To Christie she said : 

“ I hate to leave you with that sick baby. 
It has such a pitiful cry.” 

So she waited a few days, until Davie had a 
good start, when she turned towards her other 
loved ones, with the mingled feelings of joy and 
home-clinging only a mother knows. 

Christie soon found she had her hands full 
enough. It was “Holland luck,” as Katie ex- 
pressed it, for the threshers to come the very 
day Mrs. Holland left. The machine had been 
expected first at Mr. Smith's, so Christie was 
taken by surprise. 

“I am sorry it happened so, Christie; but I 
do n't dare lose my turn. You can 't manage 
without mother, I fear,” said her father. 

“You'll see,” laughed his tall daughter, who, 
at heart, was faint at the sight of six hungry 
men in the yard. “I'll make biscuits, and 
have a good supper in less than an hour.” 

“Threshing” is something city people can 
hardly understand. It is the most important 
time of the year when the steam thresher and 


Fresh Air. 


167 


its men come to tlie farm. Now the farmer 
will soon know how much money he has stored 
up in his yellow, hard-earned coffers. Near 
Christie’s home it was made a real gala time, 
farmers exchanging help, and bringing their 
wives to help cook the feasts which were thresh- 
ing-dinners. Here, as Christie knew, she would 
have men enough to cook for, without the good 
old Hoosier way of help from neighboring 
women. Every housewife prided herself on 
“ doing well by the men,” and Christie felt the 
honor of the family depended on her efforts. 

‘‘Cook ham and eggs, Katie, and open black- 
berry sauce,” directed Christie. “ It ’s well 
there’s a fresh cake; but I’ll have to make 
biscuits.” 

“Can I help?” asked Joe. 

“ If you ’ll take Davie, I ’ll make the bis- 
cuits,” said Mrs. Tilton. “ I was raised on a 
farm, yon know.” 

The bell on the back porch was rung on 
time, and Mr. Holland had no need to be ashamed 
of his hospitality. 

The next day was a busy one ; but Mrs. Til- 
ton proved an efficient helper, and Joe a capital 
nurse, though he would have preferred working 
with the men, his eyes full of dust and his 
throat with barley-beards, rather than rocking a 
cross baby in a hammock. After the threshers 


i68 


Corner Worn, 


had gone, Joe continued to care for Davie, so 
that Christie could have Mrs. Tilton’s help. By 
the time Joe was able to work, Davie was his 
devoted admirer. He was beginning to talk, 
and his “Yo-yo,” which was his first word, quite 
repaid the young man for his trouble. Every 
day saw a change for the better in the “ year- 
ling,” as Mr. Holland called him, and the young 
mother had lost her white, anxious face, and 
was able to send happy letters to the hard- 
working husband in the city. Christie was to 
return to Chicago early in September, and her 
last letter from Mrs. Watson caused her great re- 
joicing. It said that Christie could have part 
of the day to study, and could attend a conve- 
nient school. Thursa, the new Swedish girl, 
was to take Christie’s place in the kitchen, and 
this would give* Christie more the place of house- 
keeper. Soon after receiving this letter, Mr. 
Smith, who always had the “say” about that 
district school, said : 

“Christie, you are such a master-hand with 
cliildren, I wish you would take the school for 
good when Miss Mills marries in the winter.” 

“I will be ready by spring for the examina- 
tion. Save the school,” Christie replied, with a 
happy smile. 

She felt to live in this little corner of the 
world, and help make it bright, was as high a 


Fresh Air. 


169 


destiny as she could ask. As soon as she had 
welcomed her rested but home-sick mother, she 
started back to her other home, taking Mrs. 
Tilton and her fat, rosy baby. Mrs. Holland 
sent all the good things they could carry to the 
baby’s papa; but the gift that made him cry 
for joy was his rosy-cheeked wife and beautiful 
baby. 



CHflPTEf^ XVlII. 

ANOTHER WEDDING. 

MUST go back a little in my story 
to make this wedding fully under- 
stood. The second time the minister 
rode home with Mabel from her coun- 
try school-house, she noticed the first part of the 
way he was very quiet. Nothing is pleasanter 
than friendship close enough to allow pauses for 
thought in a conversation, and Mabel gave her- 
self up to the enjoyment of the soft gloaming 
over wooded hill and peaceful river. At last 
she was startled from her pleasant reverie by 
the minister saying: 

‘‘Miss Mabel, I have a secret I can not 
keep from you longer. A new experience has 
come to me. Perhaps it may not be the Lord’s 
will for me to have this dear hope realized ; but 
I have found some one whom I love with all my 
170 



Another Wedding. 


171 

heart, whom I hope to make my companion 
for life.’’ 

Was this, then, the life-work meant for her, 
flashed through Mabel’s thought, hardly know- 
ing what to reply. But the minister went on 
to say : 

‘‘ Can you tell me whether Bertha loves any 
one else or not ?” 

Mabel was glad it was getting dark ; for she 
felt a wave of color sweep over her face, which 
was probably left white enough for an instant. 
Not that she had ever dreamed of love with this 
friend before; but his friendship had become 
such a pleasant part of her life, she felt a mo- 
ment’s pang at giving it up. But for only a 
moment the world seemed a little less beautiful, 
and Mabel was her own bright, brave self, pour- 
ing forth Bertha’s praise and such words of hope 
the listener felt he was sitting in heavenly places. 
It was an easy matter to find a pretense to open 
a correspondence ; and then came those beauti- 
ful days at Bay View. Christie had given every 
spare moment to the many opportunities offered 
for spiritual and intellectual growth ; but some 
had received benefits at Bay View of a different 
nature, not announced in the prospectus. To 
make a short love-story still shorter, Bertha was 
to be married the latter part of September, and 
this was one reason Mrs. Watson thought of 


172 


Corner Work, 


making more of a companion of Christie, that 
her first winter without a daughter might not 
seem so lonely. 

Christie soon found enough work in the 
preparations for the great event, which George 
insisted on calling a quick-yeast wedding.’’ 
The bride-elect was so serenely happy reading 
and writing long letters, she supposed she was 
helping all the busy workers around her. She 
had insisted on a quiet wedding; but you know 
how those things grow. The relatives could 
not be slighted, and the young people of the 
Church were too intimately associated with 
Bertha in work to be forgotten. Then there 
were some people to whom a wedding in this 
beautiful home would be such a treat. Bertha 
felt they must come for their own pleasure, 
until her wedding promised to be everybody’s 
wedding. Some of the high-toned neighbors de- 
clared the Watsons had no sense of propriety. 
It would be just like them to ask their wash- 
woman, if she did good work. Sure enough, 
colored Mollie had a peep at the ceremony when 
the time came. Aunt Mary Jane had come to take 
the supper in charge — in fact, the whole family 
for that matter. Mrs. Watson insisted on help- 
ing; but she was too much distressed at the 
thought of losing Bertha to be of much assist- 
ance to the energetic mistress of ceremonies. 


Another Wedding. 


173 


‘‘ Dear me, Joan ; you just flustrate me,” the 
spinster would say. “ There you are, putting 
the eggs into the dish-pan instead of the cake- 
bowl.” 

“ Well, aunt, I thought I gave Bertha up 
when I consented for her to enter a life of re- 
ligious work, and when Edwin asked for her, I 
thought I was willing for that; but now, as the 
time draws near, I can hardly endure the thought 
of living without her. I am glad he is a min- 
ister, for the child certainly has gifts that can 
be of use in such a life ; but I did not suppose 
she cared especially for any one until two 
months ago.” 

“ Good land ! I knew it before Bertha had 
been in the house two days. Any one with half 
an eye could see they were made for each other. 
He and Mabel argued too much to fall in love.” 
Aunt Mary Jane sometimes still used inelegant 
language. 

“ I hope. Aunt Mary Jane, my daughter did 
not, by word or look — ” began the horrified 
mother; but her aunt interrupted her with a 
merry laugh. 

“No, indeed; the child was as innocent as a 
lamb of any thought of the minister, which was 
the quickest way to capture him, the heart of 
man by nature being so contrary. But do n’t 
you suppose I have eyes ? I can tell when folks 


174 


Corner Work. 


love each other, be it a religious courtship or no. 
I was young once myself,” and the gray-haired 
woman blushed like a girl. Her niece remem- 
bered that a widower had once offered Mary 
Jane six children, with his hand and house- 
work, while farther back in the past, perhaps, 
there had been a real romance, whose sweet 
memory still kept this heart fresh and youthful. 

The young people decorated the church for 
the wedding, and their floral tributes were very 
fitting for the pure young life they honored. 
Mabel and George were the attendants, and 
Bessie the flower-girl, to scatter blossoms before 
the bride, as she walked to the altar on her 
father^s arm. After the impressive ceremony, 
the new husband and wife knelt together and re- 
ceived the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, con- 
secrating their united lives to God’s service. 

The reception and supper at the elegant 
home were all one could ask, and after most of 
the guests had gone the family clustered around 
the happy young couple for a few parting words. 

“How nice it will be to have you with us all 
the time!” Mabel said. 

“ Or until we ’re sent to Hard Scrabble Cir- 
cuit,” answered Bertha, with a laugh at the 
prospect. 

“I think, Edwin,” said the new father, “you 
were sensible to go back, rather than take that 


Another Wedding. 


175 


city appointment you might have had. It ’s 
such a mistake to think city charges are the 
most desirable. If you do n’t find electric cars 
and other conveniences, you find the hearts of 
your people as is impossible in the more formal 
city life. Then, Mabel can look after Bertha, 
as she has done since they wore pinafores, and 
Bertha can go on with the work among the 
young people you say she started.’^ 

‘‘ She came to capture the young people, and 
succeeded with one,” said the happy captive, 
with that forgetfulness a man has so soon after 
marriage. 

‘‘Your modesty prevents you from saying 
she carried off the richest prize,” said George. 
“To drop into classics, Bertie, ‘You went, you 
saw, you conquered.’” 

“Perhaps Rose’s special work will end this 
way,” said Mr. Hays. 

“I think not,” said Christie, who was near; 
for she had been indeed “one of the family” 
during the wedding festivities. How often, when 
we learn to bear a cross without murmuring it 
is taken from us! Just as Christie came to care 
nothing for the title “servant,” she found her- 
self, by no effort of her own, in a different rela- 
tion to her employer. 

“ You know. Rose gave up going to Europe 
with Mrs. Everts to enter the children’s hospi- 


176 


Corner Work. 


tal. She IS doing nicely, and is going to make 
a nurse deaconess. Mrs. Everts is helping in 
her home, so she can do this. She is doing 
it for Charlie’s sake. She says she will always 
keep some one working, so that some one will 
be doing the good Charlie might have done. It 
is queer it should be pretty little Rose who 
should devote herself to religious work, and the 
rest of us, who thought of it first, should be 
called to other duties.” 

‘‘ Perhaps you and I can do the same some 
day,” said Mabel, who at heart still longed for 
a wider field. ‘‘ But we are very thankful Ber- 
tha can combine her work with home-making. 
It will be lonely without Roy and dear Aunt 
Mary Jane.” 

“ I know, from his letters, Roy enjoys col- 
lege, even if he does find it hard work,” said 
Frank Hays. “Is your aunt going back East?” 

“Yes, dear, noble soul. Some friend, who is 
too poor to hire a good nurse is dying of cancer, 
and auntie feels it is her duty to take care of 
her as long as she lives,” answered Mabel. 
“Isn’t she just lovely?” 

“ Yes,” said Frank, “ she is positively beau- 
tiful, now you tell me that. I so often wonder 
why women worry about looks, when a truly 
grand character always, sooner or later, makes 
a lovely face.” 


Another Wedding, 


177 


The two young girls near him determined 
to remember this. Mabel had always felt Ber- 
tha’s pretty face and graceful ways helped 
her win souls for the Master. She was honest 
in her wishing for beauty, for the sake of doing 
good with it, not realizing that a lovely spirit is 
more attractive than regular features, and a 
kind, sympathetic way more winning than any 
grace of speech or motion. The young man, 
looking into her bright, earnest face, would have 
pronounced it as beautiful as Bertha’s child-like 
features and soft coloring. 

As for Christie, she was tall and, she thought, 
awkward, her hands were somewhat roughened 
by hard work, and her country life had devel- 
oped anything but a fashion-plate form, though 
Christie was hardly sensible enough to rejoice 
over this. She, with her bright eyes and rosy 
cheeks, had nothing to worry about as to looks, 
though she did not- realize that. Some good 
people think the desire in the young for beauty 
sinful pride, whereas it is as natural as a rose’s 
wishing to unfold. If God has given beauty of 
person, it should be taken as a gift for his serv- 
ice ; but if not, all the more should the beautify- 
ing gifts of the spirit be cultivated. 

A little later Christie moved on, busy with 
the last preparations for the journey, and Mabel 
found herself alone with Mr. Hays. 

12 


178 


Corner Wore. 


‘‘ My mother recovered most of her property 
last winter, you know,’^ Mr. Hays said. “ Now 
she urges me to give up business, and go to 
college, and fit myself for a professional life, as 
father intended.” 

‘‘Will you?” asked Mabel, with interest. 

“What is your advice?” he said, in answer. 

“ I would, myself, rather finish a piece of 
work in which I knew I was successful than 
undertake an uncertainty that seemed more con- 
genial,” was Mabel’s answer, after a moment’s 
thought. 

“That is just my idea,” said the young man, 
his face flushing with pleasure. “ Of course, I 
believe every one, boy or girl, should have a col- 
lege education, if possible ; but if it is not, I 
think they can make it up by courses of study 
at home, good books, hearing the best lecturers 
and preachers, and by associating with culti- 
vated people. I believe, ill ten years, by study- 
ing during my spare minutes, I can be an edu- 
cated man, if not a scholar. And I ’m beginning 
to think it is a mistake for so many young men 
and women to aspire to the professions. I ’m 
sure good business men are needed ; and as for 
Christian work, there are ways we can get to the 
working people where ministers fail, because 
we’re one of them. I believe God has called 
me to be a preacher without a pastorate — a 


Another Wedding, 


179 


local preacher, as it is called ; not much hon- 
ored here, but a power for good in England. 
Perhaps that is one of my lines of work, to help 
on that cause, — induce gifted young men, who 
earn their living with their hands, to preach 
Christ in places too poor to sustain a regular 
preacher. Our mission would die if it were not 
kept up by such preaching.’^ 

“ I believe you have really found your calling, 
Mr. Hays,’’ Mabel said, with enthusiasm. ‘Hwish 
I felt as sure about mine ; but just now there is 
no question about my duty being to keep house 
for father and take care of the children. I had 
hoped to get one of the higher rooms in the 
school, but I did not. I got the first primary. 
I always aim high, and get a low seat,” and 
Mabel laughed, though she felt a little pang 
over her failure to get the situation for which 
she had applied. Some one without her educa- 
tion and previous training had secured it, which 
made it seem worse for ambitious Mabel. 

‘‘ There ’s just where you make your mis- 
take, Miss Mabel, if I may begin preaching to 
you. The beginning of a child’s education is 
the most important, and requires most talent; 
but I ’m sorry — ” 

“ Come, old fellow,” cried George. “ Bring 
Mabel over here, and let us be merry. There 
you are, preaching a sermon, and these young 


x8o 


Corner Work, 


people talking about work, in the midst of their 
wedding festivities.’’ 

‘‘I was saying,” Bertha remarked, as Frank 
and Mabel joined the circle, ‘‘ we would turn 
our Young People’s Society into the Epworth 
League, that has just been started; and, Frank, 
will you not please do the same ?” 

“No one can refuse a bride a request,” was 
the gallant reply. 

“ Now I suppose Bertha must get ready for 
the journey. It ’s a miserable way, rushing off 
so soon,” said Mr. Watson. 

“ But my father and mother are waiting im- 
patiently for us, you know,” said the new son. 
“ Since they could not come to the wedding, we 
must go to them.” 

“Yes, yes,” assented the father, with a jeal- 
ous pang, as Bertha gave a loving glance, not 
towards him, but the young husband, as she left 
the room to lay aside her white robes for her 
pretty traveling dress. 

This long journey east, to the farm where 
the old man and woman were waiting for her, 
did not seem a dreadful thing. No matter what 
they were, or what the home was she would 
find, they were her husband’s, and to Bertha’s 
loyal heart that was enough. She wanted all 
the good-byes at home, and, of course, the last 
moment was one of tears, as well as smiles. 


Another Wedding, i 8 i 

Here ’s your slipper,’’ cried George, send- 
ing it through the open carriage window, and 
right in to the bridegroom’s classic nose. But he 
was in a forgiving frame of mind, and the car- 
riage had started before the shower of rice 
George sent could do any harm. 

“God be with them, and bless them in their 
life-work !” said the father, in a husky voice. 

“And God be with us in ours !” said Frank, 
in his earnest voice, as the carriage, followed by 
so much love and so many prayers, disappeared 
into the night. 



CHAPTEt^ XIX. 

WFK AT THE PARSONAGE. 

HE most trying thing to the conceited 
heart of man is the thought that no 
one is long missed. When a soldier 
falls, some one steps in his place, and 
the ranks move on. This very fact, however, 
should be an inspiration to make the most of the 
present opportunity, that the workmen who take 
up what our hands drop may build on perfect 
foundations. There are always tender hearts 
who keep loved ones enshrined even if their 
work is cared for; so, though the religious work 
of Chicago did not languish because of the loss 
of one earnest young worker, a mother’s heart 
often longed for her darling. 

But George had entered business with his 
father, and he was too full of life for any house 
he was in to be lonely. Christie, too, proved a 
182 



Life at the Parsonage, 183 

real comfort. She attended a school where she 
could take up the studies she needed in the 
afternoon, with the evening, and occasionally an 
hour in the morning, for study. She was too 
busy and happy to think over her social posi- 
tion, her one sincere aim being, ‘‘ How can I 
make the best of the talents which God has 
given me?’^ 

Down on the Ohio River that question was 
being also seriously considered by Mrs. Edwin 
Lindley. The first six weeks had passed like a 
happy dream. Nothing had marred the visit 
at the old homestead. The dear old people had 
taken the new daughter to their hearts at once, 
and the brothers and sisters had fallen in love 
with Edwin’s bride as a matter of course. The 
journey each way was a delight. Even the tele- 
graph poles seemed to wave a happy salute as 
the smiling pair passed. 

The elysian dream was not broken by arriv- 
ing at their own little home. Mabel had been 
at work, nobly seconded by the devoted people. 
The little parsonage had been completely ren- 
ovated. Mabel had been instructed to select 
what was needed after Bertha’s things came, so 
everything was ready for the new mistress. 
Even her old girlish treasures were scattered 
around the house, her piano open, and her writ- 
ing-desk ready for a home letter. Kind ‘‘ sis- 


184 


Corner Work. 


ters^^ had filled the pantry with enough ‘^good- 
ies to keep the little family a month. 

Mabel welcomed them, put the dainty sup- 
per on the table, then slipped over home. This 
was the happiest experience yet, sitting alone at 
their first meal. No wonder they both laughed 
too much for the minister to say grace properly. 
The warm rolls, creamed potatoes, cold chicken, 
peaches, and cake were hardly noticed, so ab- 
sorbing was the thought that this was their 
home, and that they belonged to each other — 
“ Each for the other, and both for God,’^ as was 
engraven in the wedding-ring. 

It was just fun to put on a big gingham 
apron and wash the dishes, especially as Edwin 
insisted on helping. It was reward enough to 
see how pretty Bertha looked in the big apron, 
with a new matronly dignity on her happy face. 
The breakfast next morning was a great success, 
with one exception. Edwin toasted the bread 
and Bertha poached the eggs to a nicety; but 
the coffee had a queer look, and the new hus- 
band saw grounds for complaint. 

‘‘I never happened to make coffee,” apolo- 
gized Bertha; ‘‘but I’m sure this is the way 
Christie does. How bitter it is !” 

“ An inferior grade of coffee, no doubt,” said 
the minister, no suspicion of his wife’s ability 
entering his mind. “Like ivory soap, it floats. 


Life at the Parsonage. 185 

Coffee is n’t healthful anyway. All you want is 
a good cook-book. There’s nothing easier than 
cooking, if you follow the rules, you know.” 

Bertha did not know, and she felt quite mor- 
tified, but resolved to settle the coffee question 
at once. 

The first Sunday seemed an important day. 
Bertha had tried to arrange her household mat- 
ters so she could give her thoughts as much as 
possible to the meetings. In his little study the 
minister found his mind wandering from his ser- 
mon, as he heard, from time to time, light foot- 
falls and snatches of song. At last a cry came 
that made his manuscript fly in every direction, 
while he rushed to the cellar door. 

‘‘Darling, are you hurt?” he called, clear- 
ing the low steps with a bound. 

“O, Edwin, some one has stolen our meat 
for dinner — a lovely porter-house that I know 
just how to cook. I put it on the cellar 'floor 
to keep it cool. What will we do?” and Ber- 
tha was ready to cry with vexation. Edwin 
made matters worse by a heartless laugh. 

“ The window is open. I saw our neighbor’s 
cat go by; so I suspect a cat-astrophy.” 

Bertha felt grieved, but tried to smile at the 
old joke, and later made an effort to listen to the 
morning sermon without hard thoughts about 
the feline race. 


Corner Work. 


1 86 

‘‘You must come home to dinner, children,” 
Mr. Elder said in his cordial way ; and for some 
time Bertha found the Sunday dinner pleas- 
antly provided for. 

One day, late in October, when Mr. and Mrs. 
Lindley were enjoying the fire in the cosy sit- 
ting-room, a seedy-looking individual appeared 
at the front door. Bertha brought him in with 
her usual cordial way, and he was soon pouring 
forth his story into sympathetic ears. He was 
a Christian worker, a Salvation Army man. He 
had been laboring in Kentucky with wonderful 
results, but had not been generously treated. 
He had lost his trunk with all his clothes. If 
the minister could help him with a little cloth- 
ing, and lend him enough to get home, he would 
be very grateful. He even hinted a lunch would 
not come amiss. Tender-hearted Bertha stepped 
out, and spread a substantial meal. 

“ We must help Christian workers, Edwin,” 
she said, in apology for making coffee on her 
little oil-stove. 

“Yes, indeed,” was the hearty response. 
“He’s all right, for I know the minister who 
sent him here. His people treated him mean 
enough. I’ll spare a few articles of clothing. 
It’s lending to the Eord, you know.” 

They even offered to keep him all night; but 
Bertha was thankful when he said a sick wife 


Life at the Parsonage/ 187 

called him to take the evening stage ; not glad 
of the sad cause of his haste, but that her dainty 
guest-room was spared such an occupant. He 
suggested a season of prayer, and gave thanks 
so eloquently that he left the young people in 
a glow of satisfaction over their efforts. 

‘‘ Making others happy is all that really pays 
in this world,’’ said the minister warmly. 

“Yes, Edwin, my greatest ambition about a 
home is to make a bit of heaven for those less 
fortunate,” answered Bertha, and her husband’s 
answer need not be recorded. 

Edwin noticed a cloud over his wife’s sunny 
face at supper. “ He ate all the cold meat I 
meant for supper, and half a loaf of bread, and 
all of the pie and cake, or else he put some in 
his pocket on the sly,” complained Bertha. 

“ We must be charitable, love ; the poor fel- 
low was hungry,” answered Edwin. 

So the matter was dropped until a letter 
came a few days later from Rev. John Jackman, 
warning the Vernon minister against an impos- 
tor calling himself an evangelist, but being a 
tramp of the worst kind. 

“Why didn’t he write sooner?” said Edwin 
as he walked the floor in great excitement. 
“ Here I ’m out a good shirt, coat, and gloves, 
to say nothing of the five dollars I lent him.” 

“O, Edwin, I didn’t dare tell you, but he 


i88 


Corner Work. 


walked off with four of my lovely solid spoons,’’ 
said Bertha, tearfully. 

‘‘The wretch! he shall go to prison if I find 
him,” said Edwin. “But don’t feel bad, dar- 
ling; though this has been a trying and costly 
experience, we must not lose faith in people. 
Only, dear, never give your best silver to a 
tramp,” he concluded in that authoritative way 
young husbands love to assume. 

“And never lend over four dollars and 
seventy-five cents to a tramp who makes a better 
prayer than you do,” answered Bertha, slyly. So 
they laughed, and resolved to make the best of a 
mistake, and be more careful next time in “lend- 
ing a hand.” 

Mabel was very busy in her school, which 
was new and trying work. It was one thing to 
play with children, and another to teach fifty in 
a mixed grade. Besides school-work, there was 
the care of the home, and much to do for her 
father and the children, and long letters to write 
to Roy. Still she ran over to the parsonage 
often. One Saturday morning she found two 
surprises. The first was, that the door was 
opened by a very black young girl. The other 
was, that she found Bertha up-stairs crying as if 
her heart would break. 

“Why, childie, what’s the matter?” she cried 
in alarm. “Is auntie sick? has a tramp stolen 


Life at the Parsonage, 189 

your watch ? or has Edwin run off? ’’ her anxiety 
lessening as Bertha began to laugh a little 
hysterically. Since early childhood these cous- 
ins had been like sisters, with no secrets be- 
tween them. 

So before she thought that she was in any 
way reflecting on her husband, Bertha almost 
sobbed : 

“O, Mabel, Edwin’s disappointed in me.” 

“ Nonsense, child ; what gave you that idea?” 
said Mabel. 

“ O, he said this morning he wished his 
mother had taught me how to make bread, and 
that he was tired of hash.” 

“ Is that all ? He is like most men, particu- 
lar about good bread; and, I remember, he 
slighted even aunt’s good hash. Do you have 
it often?” inquired Mabel. 

“Well, yes, lately; for what did he do but 
bring up a six-pound roast Monday? What 
could I do?” 

“You must teach him to buy just enough, 
and you must learn to make meat-pies, beef- 
loaf, and all that, when he forgets,” said Mabel. 
“ But Bertha, never let such a silly thought 
tempt you again. Of course one can’t be per- 
fection. You may not have had my experience 
in using up scraps, and I can beat you in wash- 
ing and ironing; but then you are a delightful 


Corner Work, 


190 

companion and a splendid Church helper. You 
are getting half the children in town in your in- 
fant-class and to your Saturday afternoon meet- 
ing, and all his people love you. Let me help 
you conquer the bread question. I had a dread- 
ful struggle over it. A woman may sing like 
an angel, be beautiful as a dream, know all 
languages and sciences, yet her husband will 
want light, sweet bread. 

‘‘I don’t see why girls do not learn bread as 
they do cake ; but we did not, so come over and 
show me from the start,” said Bertha. 

will. But who is that little Topsy, Bertha?” 

‘‘O, that’s Polly. She’s going to work for 
me,” replied Bertha. 

“ Does n’t Mrs. Hubble do washing and 
ironing well and cheap? She needs work.” 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Bertha, 
but it will be some time before Polly can do 
those things. You see she came from over the 
river. She ’s had a hard time. The last woman 
she worked for actually whipped her. Think of 
that ! She cried and coaxed ; so Edwin said I 
could try her awhile. He said the hash would 
go quicker now. I own that settled it ; but I 
believe it is my duty to try and save this poor 
soul. I shall teach her to read and write. I 
thought you would approve, Mabel, you think 
so much of the heathen.” 


Life at the Parsonage, 19 i 

One of Mrs. Lewis’s mottoes is, ‘ Duties 
never conflict so if this does with any you 
now have, I am doubtful,” answered thoughtful 
Mabel. ‘‘Of course, it is your duty to make a 
pleasant home for Edwin. Perhaps you can, 
and keep Polly too. Then, it ’s your duty to 
take care of your nice things. Perhaps Polly 
may not break or waste or steal. Then, as Ed- 
win is in debt, it is your duty to help lift that 
burden. Perhaps Polly may save your time and 
strength, so you can do more Church-work, and 
let Edwin finish his special studies. I am sure 
you should help him, whether you lift up the 
colored race or not.” 

“Dear me!” cried Bertha. “No one thinks 
I am right lately. I see you think I have done 
wrong to take in this homeless, degraded girl. 
I assure you I did it only for her good. I never 
did enjoy colored people, and I thought I would 
crucify that foolish prejudice. The work is 
nothing for me ; but we are so happy alone, I 
feared we would get selfish.” 

“ Some one should take Polly, no doubt, and 
this may be your work, Bertha. Of course, no 
one can doubt your motive. I was just thinking 
what Aunt Mary Jane said about the little gar- 
dens the children had this summer. Bessie 
wanted to make a good deal, so she sowed just 
twice the seed we directed. Then she was so 


192 


Corner Work. 


anxious for a big crop, she wouldn’t do the 
thinning we recommended. Of course, every- 
thing was spindling, and, though she weeded it 
well, nothing came to perfection. ‘Just like so 
much of the work nowadays,’ auntie said, as 
Bessie complained there were no roasting-ears 
on her little grove of corn. ‘ Folks try to know 
everything, and know nothing well, and try to 
do so many things, it ’s all spindling and goes 
to stalk.’” 

Bertha laughed and blushed, as she an- 
swered : 

“ There is something in it. That was one 
reason I was glad to move to a village. I 
supposed I would not be tempted to undertake 
so much. But with housework. Church-work, 
practicing, and many unlooked-for interruptions, 
I am as busy as I can be. But how about Jack’s 
garden? I remember he had great plans.” 

“Yes, he started everything well; but he 
kept coaxing for more land, and as he had more 
than he was able to work, the weeds took his 
garden. ‘Jack,’ said Aunt Mary, ‘you started 
your garden well ; but you forgot the old Indian 
song, “Go on, go on, go on.” You began a 
dozen things, while Percy Jones planted and 
tended just onions, and he cleared thirty dol- 
lars.’ This set Roy and me thinking. Of 
course, if a miner were constantly opening new 


Life at the Parsonage. 193 

mines, instead of thoroughly working one, he 
would not find much ore. I was talking with 
Mrs. Lathrop about young people’s work, and 
she said: ‘Yes, they Have freshness and enthu- 
siasm ; but most young people lack the gift of 
continuance, so it is hard to depend on them for 
important work.’” 

“Mabel, I am dreadfully disappointed in our 
young people here,” said Bertha, as Mabel fin- 
ished her long speech. “ We started off* so 
grandly, and see how few are interested now.” 

“ That ’s just it, Bertha. Now, instead of our 
trying a kitchen garden, a Chautauqua Circle, 
or some of the things we have thought of, let 
us take our old plant — that is, last winter’s 
work — and make it blossom or bear fruit.” 

“Well, we must get up an entertainment to 
rouse the indifferent ; and we had better work 
for a new pulpit and Bible. Ours are a dis- 
grace to the Church,” answered Bertha. 

“ That ’s good,” said Mabel. “ Now I must 
run home, where my garden needs me this mo- 
ment. What’s that?” 

The girls followed the crash in the kitchen, 
and Bertha found her lovely glass pitcher in 
ruins. She bore it very sweetly, though cut to 
the heart over her loss. She gave Polly direc- 
tions to leave the choice articles in her care, and 
ran to Edwin for his ready sympathy, as Mabel 
13 


194 


Corner Work. 


went off, more doubtful than ever about Polly. 
The minister had long ago forgotten his cruel 
reflection on the hash question, and was able to 
make Bertha realize, while he was in the flesh, 
the loss of cut-glass was nothing. MabePs 
words gave the young wife much food for re- 
flection. Her life-work now must be more than 
the dainty touches — the real, solid foundation- 
work, and the keeping safe what had been 
gathered. 

“It’s the discouraging part of Christian work, 
Edwin,” she said ; “ people wo n’t stay con- 
verted easily.” 

“No; if they did, I hardly need preach from 
Sunday to Sunday to Church members. God’s 
grace is like our daily bread, required every day.” 

“And wanted fresh and sweet,” laughed 
Bertha, flushing at the thought of her short- 
comings. 

Man-like, he had forgotten his cruel thrust 
about his wife’s cooking, so went back to his 
sermon, thinking how fortunate he was to have 
such a perfect wife to help him in his diflffcult 
work, while she went off to study the bread 
question, it being time it was “ set.” 

Before a week she had the proud satisfaction 
of hearing: “Who made this beautiful bread, 
Bertha? It’s really whiter and finer grained 
than mother’s.” 


Life at the Parsonage, 195 

She did not say that three failures had found 
their way to a neighbor’s pig-pen, for fear the 
most devoted husband might not wish to feed 
swine on fine wheat. However, from that day 
Mr. Lindley had no reason to complain over a 
broken staff of life. Yet, even after Bertha had 
mastered this difficulty, Mabel ran in one Satur- 
day morning and found the young wife in tears 
again. 

“O, Mabel, that aggravating girl has run 
away without as much as thanking me for what 
I have done for her. She has gotten my nice 
house up-side down, brought bugs into her 
room, and I ’m sure I know nothing about get- 
ting rid of them ; but, worst of all, some of my 
fine towels, a white skirt, and' my little pearl pin 
are missing.” 

“ We must find her,” answered Mabel, as ex- 
cited as her cousin. 

“ She has gone back to Kentucky, and, before 
this, has disposed of the things, and we have no 
proof but their being gone ; so Edwin says we 
will have to let her go. Mrs. Harding had to 
come in just now, of course, and she says Polly 
has been telling we overworked her, and treated 
her like a slave, and all that, after all my teach- 
ing her and helping her, and never scolding.” 

“Never mind, dear; no one minds what 
Mrs. Harding says, and every one knows Polly 


196 


Corner Work. 


is false. But perhaps some day the girl will 
realize what you did, especially to make her a 
Christian, and she may be a good woman yet.’^ 

“ How you comfort me, Mabel ! I ca n’t see 
how she can go entirely to the bad, after all my 
earnest prayers for her. This hope will keep 
me from worrying too much over the things 
she destroyed. I suppose some things can be 
mended when we can afford it. She put my 
silver tea-pot on the stove and melted the bot- 
tom right out; and she was so impudent about 
it. I do n’t see why I failed so with her.” 

‘‘God does not promise us success, dear. 
That is our hope; but we must work in his 
name, leaving the results to him. I doubt 
whether this work was meant for you anyway.” 

“Well, I will be wiser next time,” said Ber- 
tha, brightly. “Now I have a lovely plan to 
raise at least fifty dollars for our Young People’s 
Society.” 


CHflPTEt^ XX. 

A GRAND FAILURE AND SEVERAE SUCCESSES. 


AM almost afraid to tell you wliat 
we Ve done, or rather I. You know 
how lovely Abbie Carrington sings. 
We heard her several winters ago. 
Well, she is making a concert tour, and she is 
to pass through here on her way to an engage- 
ment in Kentucky. Her agent was here this 
morning, and said she had just one night left — 
next Thursday — and could stop here with no 
expense to us. Think of what a treat for this 
out-of-the-way place, to hear such a voice ! 
We Ve been wishing for a good concert.’’ 

“Yes,” assented Mabel, “we have had 
nothing of the kind lately ; but I think the Peak 
family, with one or two of your sweet solos 
thrown in, would be more acceptable to our 
people. Those who can afford fine music, go to 

197 



Corner Work. 


198 

Cincinnati, and places nearer ; but most of our 
people care nothing for operatic style. Then 
we will have to share the profits. How much 
can we expect to make?’’ 

We are to pay the expenses for the hall, 
getting a piano, and the advertising, and give 
them two-thirds of the proceeds at the door,” 
said Bertha, faintly. 

‘‘O, Bertha!” cried Mabel, ‘‘we can’t make 
money that way.” 

“I fear the agent demanded too much; but, 
of course, Edwin never had much experience in 
this line. If the people turn out we will make 
money, for the agent made us promise to charge 
fifty cents. He would n’t give us time to con- 
sult others ; but as Edwin is the president of 
the Young People’s Society, he thought he might 
take the responsibility of one entertainment. 
We ’ve been thinking, instead of getting in 
money by little bits, we had better all work 
hard and sell tickets to something worth hearing. 
If it is a loss, we must meet it ourselves ; but if 
we clear fifty dollars, as they did at Larance- 
burg, we will be glad we did not let this oppor- 
tunity slip.” 

“But the prayer-meeting?” said Mabel. 

“ To tell the truth, we forgot that till too 
late. If it can not be held the evening before, 
Edwin thinks an early meeting can be had be- 


Grand Failure and Successes. 199 

fore tlie concert, which does not begin until 
eight. Of course, it will be in the hall ; we 
do n’t believe in such things in God’s house.” 

“Yes,” admitted Mabel, “many things we 
get up are perfectly innocent, but not sacred 
enough for the Church. But I do wish people 
would give for God’s cause without asking 
something in return.” 

“We wish so too. Edwin thinks the time 
will come when Christians will be so educated 
up to giving cheerfully that preachers will have 
only the soul-work to look after. But you know 
that is not the case here, and we have to try 
every way to raise the finances. But Edwin 
says he has to admit it promotes sociability, and 
keeps people alive, having to work for the 
money.” 

“ Yes ; well, I must go,” answered Mabel. 
“ I ’ll help you all I can ; but twenty-five cents 
is all Vernon people can afford. I do n’t believe 
they would give more to hear Patti.” 

“ But we promised the agent. I am sure, 
when the people understand, they will help gen- 
erously,” said Bertha, hopefully. 

“It isn’t Chicago; but it may turn out splen- 
didly,” was Mabel’s cheerful answer, as she went 
away. 

Mr. and Mrs. Lindley felt they had the “white 
elephant” on their hands, sure enough. But 


200 


Corner WorR-. 


they went to work, giving Billy Morris instruc- 
tions to have the dodgers and tickets ready at 
once. The sermons Sunday were poorly pre- 
pared, owing to the work the minister had given 
to the grand concert the day before. Bertha 
helped all she could, in trying to sell tickets and 
secure a piano, and finally saw her own lovely 
one taken out in the rain. 

Prayer-meeting was not postponed, so the 
faithful few gathered in the class-room, the 
younger ones impatient for the services to be 
over. Everything dragged, so the preacher was 
glad of an excuse to close the meeting by eight 
o’clock. To make matters worse, a cold rain 
had set in that day, and the Baptists were hav- 
ing a free social, besides. Only the twelve peo- 
ple who had purchased tickets plodded through 
the dark streets. A corner of the platform had 
been curtained off for a dressing-room, and here 
the distinguished prima donna was waiting, the 
most disgusted of all. Two smoky lamps 
were placed in front of the stage for foot-lights. 
The rest of the hall was only dimly lighted. 
She sang like a bird; but her operatic flights 
were appreciated by only a few of her hearers, 
and her elaborate white silk seemed strangely 
out of place in her surroundings. Those who 
might have enjoyed her artistic efforts were too 
heart-stricken over the expense to applaud 


Grand Failure and Successes, 201 

much, and all were relieved when the program 
ended. 

‘‘ If it had n’t rained, and if the other folks 
had postponed their social, we would have 
made something; but we didn’t lose much,” 
Bertha said, as she took off her dripping water- 
proof, in her own entry. 

‘‘O no; the expenses were light. We took 
enough in, lacking eight dollars,” answered the 
minister, in anything but a light tone. 

“ O, Edwin, when you need money so!” cried 
Bertha. ‘‘ But I will not get the new cloak papa 
expected to get for me ; and we have each other, 
any way.” 

This was so sweetly demonstrated by the 
loving little wife that the minister’s face was 
sunshine again. 

‘‘After this, Bertha, we must plan according 
to our surroundings.” 

“Edwin, ought we not try to educate people 
up to the best music?” asked his wife. 

“Yes occasionally we should try to get a 
good singer or really fine lecturer here ; but we 
must not expect to make money that way. If 
our Eeague lecture course pays expenses each 
year, we have done the town and young people 
great service. But we must never do the plan- 
ning alone ; we must be sure of the support of 
the people first.” 


202 


Corner Work. 


So wiser, if poorer, the young minister and 
his helper turned to the next duties. 

Bertha had a special gift with children, and 
followed up her work in the infant class by vis- 
iting the children at their homes and enlisting 
the help of the mothers. She had tact about 
working in as many helpers as possible, so it 
was easy to vary her Saturday afternoon meet- 
ings. Once in a while a little social, with light 
refreshments, brought back little wanderers. 
Once a month a Loyal Legion meeting roused 
enthusiasm, and kept up temperance work. 
Once a month the foreign missionary meeting 
was inspiring, and largely attended. Getting 
up a missionary-box for the children in one of 
our Southern schools, fired the ‘‘juniors” with 
zeal in home missionary work. In it all the 
cathechism was not neglected, and a constant 
leading towards the Savior was the center and 
circumference of the children’s work. In sick- 
ness Bertha was always welcome. She was so 
bright and trustful, and had a way of finding 
some little service that would help the sufferer. 
“ It is a pleasure to run for a fresh drink,” she 
said, as an invalid thanked her fof her thought- 
fulness. “Think of the Savior’s mentioning 
even the giving of a cup of cold water!” She 
was always ready to hold the sick baby, and let 
the mother run out for a breath of fresh air, or 


Grand Failure and Successes. 203 

lie down a little while. Mabel almost felt a 
pang of jealousy at the way Mrs. Lewis turned 
to Bertha. The teacher was too busy to see her 
dear friend often, and the patient sufferer wel- 
comed the minister’s wife in her place. 

But, after all, Bertha’s greatest success was 
in the home. She made a sweet, restful place 
for the busy minister, and had a welcome for all 
of his people. Every one felt free to bring their 
trials to the minister’s wife, or to drop in and 
rest as they passed. The country members 
knew they could stop and warm, or, if need be, 
find a dinner when they came in to ‘‘ trade.” 
The ladies’ meetings and Young People’s Society 
could any time come to the pretty parsonage 
parlors. All this took much time and strength, 
and caused Bertha often to neglect her practice; 
but it was part of the work of saving and up- 
lifting souls, and she was thankful for the priv- 
ilege. Of course, as home duties increased, 
Bertha could not so completely belong to her 
husband’s people, but she learned early that she 
could at least give love and sympathy to those 
around her. 

“ Mabel,” she confided to her almost sister 
one day. “A minister’s wife has just as many 
home duties as any other woman. No wonder 
you can generally tell one as far as you can see 
her, she looks so worn and tired. A Church 


204 


Corner IVoRnr. 


ought to see that a minister’s wife does not wear 
herself out in the kitchen if they want her at 
every meeting. But I have been thinking it 
over. If every Christian woman felt it her duty 
to help her pastor and work for the Lord, how 
much better that would be! Is there any reason 
why every Christian home should not make 
people welcome; every good woman visit the 
sick and poor all she can, like mamma does, or 
shake hands with strangers, and take part in 
meetings when she can?” 

‘‘ No, indeed,” answered Mabel. Good 
workers are not so much needed for ministers’ 
wives as those who can teach other people to 
work. Just now I want you to inspire our 
women, young and old, to get up a home Thanks- 
giving-dinner at the church. We can have the 
sermon before dinner, and then a little program 
by our young people. Every one will be glad 
to pay a quarter for the dinner, and we have some 
noted cooks here, and people donate such things 
liberally. We will have a grand time, and put 
some money in our treasury for the pulpit too.” 

Bertha was delighted with the idea, and the 
two girls soon got the rest enthusiastic. It was 
announced as a dinner furnished by the Epworth 
League; but the good things spoke for themselves 
of the work of the mothers. It was to be a kind 
of a harvest home festival. 


Grand Failure and Successes. 205 

Will Smith brought in lovely farm decora- 
tions. The church was very suggestive of har- 
vest, with its pyramid of sheaves, its garlands 
made of bright vegetables and corn-shucks, 
pressed leaves, ferns, and golden-rod. The pul- 
pit was banked with blooming chrysanthemums 
and green plants the ladies brought. The choir 
gave some delightful music, and the minister 
laid away his treasured effort on the glories of 
this mighty Republic, and gave a sweet, tender 
talk on personal thanksgiving to God, which 
made all feel how much they had to be grateful 
for, and how beautiful and precious life was 
with such a God as Father and King. The din- 
ner, to use an Indiana word, was splendid.’’ 
The turkeys had been roasted, and the chicken- 
pies were kept warm in kitchens near, and 
finished by the several gasoline-stoves at hand. 
After the tables were full, people good-nat- 
uredly took plates in their laps. The young peo- 
ple were the waiters, and then had their own fun 
at the second table. There was a short pro- 
gram of recitations and music after dinner, but 
it was hard to get the attention, every one had 
such a good time talking. Many had come in 
from the other churches and from the country, 
and old friends met who had not enjoyed this 
privilege for a long time. 

But I must not forget the menagerie. Bertha 


2o6 


Corner Work. 


had bought paper patterns, and taught her little 
ones to make cotton-flannel animals. They were 
put up on a table in an adjoining class-room, 
and sold for Christmas presents as quickly as 
the proverbial “ hot cakes.” It was something 
new, and the brown dogs, gray elephants, white 
rabbits, and other not as easily recognized ani- 
mals, caused much sport and cleared for the 
ambitious “juniors” a nice sum. 

“ This has been the greatest social success 
our town has ever known,” the Presbyterian 
minister said as he left. 

“ We thank you and your people for helping 
make it so,” Mr. Lindley responded heartily. 
“I really feel we ought to divide the profits.” 

“No, indeed ; you had the work. But I think 
your young people will soon have the pulpit they 
have selected. You are a fortunate man, Brother 
Lindley, with such helpers. The life in your 
Church is even beginning to penetrate our dry 
bones. I supposed, before you came, we would 
always have a good neighbor in our slumbers; 
but I see you have waked up and left us far 
behind.” And the good, slow, but devoted 
man went home to ponder and pray, and to find 
even little Vernon and its vicinity could furnish 
work for more than one bee-hive. 

The young wife learned part of her life-work 
in this Thanksgiving festival. 


Grand Failure and Successes, 207 

^‘Why, Mabel,” she said, “I never knew 
people quarrel so. Of course, Mrs. Harding 
wants to run everything, and Mrs. Johnston is so 
much more capable. It has taken half my time 
to keep peace. And Minnie Bright is unwilling 
to work at the same table with Esther Smith. 
Did you ever?” 

“Yes, a good many times,” laughed Mabel. 
“And we are not more quarrelsome than other 
people, Bertha. There was ever so much of 
this spirit in Dr. Hunt’s Church, only you were 
not in the kitchen, and did not hear it ; and I 
think myself city ladies say disagreeable things 
in a more agreeable manner. Some people are 
naturally antagonistic to each other. A good 
manager plans to put the right persons together. 
Mrs. Harding is one of our best workers ; but 
she generally puts every one out of humor by 
her talking. I think you manage her splen- 
didly.” 

“ O, I prayed so hard over it, and tried to 
keep the others from taking offense at every 
little thing she said. Say what you will, no one 
works as hard as she at anything of this kind. 
If she had more of Christ’s love, she would be a 
splendid worker,” answered Bertha. 

“I think, dear, your husband will always 
have a peaceful Church, because he will try to 
have a consecrated people. Of course, these 


2o8 


Corner Wore. 


little troubles in Church-work come up from 
loving self better than our neighbors, and not 
loving Christ enough. Has Mrs. Lewis given 
you Thomas d Kempis’s ‘ Three Steps that 
Lead to Peace?’ said Mabel. 

“ No; you must find them for me, and I will 
write them in my Bible,” was the answer. 

“ They are in mine ; but they are in my 
heart, too, for I have so sorely needed them 
since mother went away. They are : ‘ Be de- 
sirous to do the will of another, rather than 
thine own. Choose always to have less, rather 
than more. Wish always, and pray, that the will 
of God may be wholly fulfilled in thee.’” 

will, no doubt, need it all when we get 
up our calendar carnival next month,” replied 
Bertha. And she went to her own pretty home, 
wondering if she would ever attain that state of 
peace that she would truly choose to have less 
rather than more. It troubled her for a mo- 
ment. She wanted to be more to her husband 
than she had been, and more to his people. 
Her heart was brimful of desires for “ more ” 
for her loved ones, besides some happy little 
hopes of her own. 

‘JAfter all,” was her wise decision, ‘Ht is all 
taken in at the last step. I do want, most of all, 
the will of God fulfilled in me ; and whether it 
is more or less than I have now, it ’s all right. 


Grand Failure and Successes, 209 

I know if God takes away my precious husband, 
or mamma, or anything, he will give me strength 
to bear it.’^ 

So she left her spiritual state with the Lord, 
not taking up her motives or states of feeling 
and troubling over them, but pressing on 
towards Christ, leaving all she did not under- 
stand to him. 

As she had expected, there were many little 
ways to show a Christ-like spirit in helping the 
young people get up their “calendar carnival.’’ 
This was such a success, and so enjoyable to 
every one, it must be described. It had been 
thought of when Bertha was first in Vernon; 
but it had taken some time and preparation, and 
now was ready, thanks to the labor of Minnie 
Bright, with Bertha’s frequent suggestions. It 
was the first entertainment in Vernon that ever 
elicited the interest of all the girls ; for those of 
the other Churches kindly helped in this special 
effort to raise needed money. The old rink was 
the largest hall in town. This was fitted up 
with booths representing the twelve months. 
First there was a procession of twelve young 
girls, dressed to represent the months of the 
year, led by Father Time, and followed by pretty 
little Flossie Bright as Cupid. After the pretty 
march, the months took their places in their 
booths. 


14 


210 


Corner Work. 


‘‘January” was covered with cotton, to rep- 
resent snow, and sleigh-bells were hung on the 
wall. Here were hot oyster-soup, apples, nuts, 
and other things people are supposed to like in 
midwinter. The special sale was lovely hand- 
painted calendars, to begin the year with. 

“February” was also white and wintry, 
every white rug in town being in the scene. 
Skates and sleds, mittens and hoods for cold 
winter were here, and a table where some pretty 
little girls sold home-made valentines, each one 
having a bit of “fortune” inside. Here were 
scales, where for a nickel one could find whether 
he needed anti-fat or not. 

“March” was a picturesque sugar-camp, 
where a kettle was kept boiling, so one could 
have hot “wax” any moment to cool on ice. 
Here was maple sugar and all kinds of home- 
made candies. In the winter months the girls 
were in furs and covered with snow-flakes. In 
the sugar-camp they looked about as their 
grandmothers did when they helped “ stir off.” 

“April” was covered with a big umbrella. 
The door was closed; but an invitation hung 
out, “Come in out of the rain.” Inside, for sale, 
were all kinds of cleaning-house articles, — 
brooms, dusting-caps, aprons, and other house- 
hold articles, with umbrellas and water-proofs 
as well. Every one who entered was treated to 


Grand Failure and Successes, 


2II 


an ‘‘April Fool,’^ and shouts of laughter tempted 
in the passer-by. Salads were served on tissue- 
paper lettuce-leaves. There was also a myste- 
rious looking dish of “greens.’’ 

“May” was an open bower of beauty, repre- 
senting a green slope, with the gay Maypole in 
the midst. “May” sold fancy articles and paper 
flowers, with lemonade and cake. 

“June” was a bower of roses, — paper, of 
course. Rose-girls sold flowers and plants, ob- 
tained at a green-house, and cake and cream. 

“July” had a frowning fort, with Uncle Sam 
himself peeping out. Inside were flags, and a 
“Goddess of Liberty” sold fire-crackers and 
candy, and all kinds of fruit. 

“August” was draped with tennis-nets, and 
girls in graceful garden costumes and flower- 
covered hats superintended parlor croquet and 
other games, or sold ices and ice-cream soda. 

“September” was a county fair, with a 
Punch and Judy and other side-shows. Very 
young-looking old ladies exhibited rolls of but- 
ter, preserves, and the like. 

“October” was a booth of corn-stalks, pump- 
kins, squashes, apples, sumach-berries, and 
other autumnal decorations. The harvest moon, 
with a man in it, smiled down on the scene. 
Nutting and husking were prettily represented. 
Her^ any one who wanted tea, coffee, or choco- 


212 


Corner Work. 


late was served by pretty maidens, decorated 
with autumn leaves. 

‘‘November” was not unlike October, chrys- 
anthemums being there the chief decoration. 
Here was the New England supper, much in 
demand. 

“December” had a Christmas-tree, a fire- 
place with stockings, and a Santa Claus. Here 
toys, books, and other holiday presents were 
sold by girls in white Canton-flannel gowns, 
trimmed with holly. 

I have not been able to tell all the attractions 
of that pretty carnival. It had to be kept open 
two days and nights before people were tired of 
it. Each evening and afternoon there was a 
pretty program of music or recitations to help 
attract the crowd. 

“How could we have carried it out without 
our boys working so hard?” said Esther Smith. 

“Every one has worked hard; but it was 
beautiful, and weVe raised a sum of money for 
our Church no one thought possible,” answered 
Minnie. 

“Edwin, we have had a time of real inno- 
cent amusement for our young people, as well 
as clearing off our debt. Now I hope we can 
as easily turn their hearts towards the real 
purpose of the Church,” said Bertha, after the 
carnival. 


Grand Failure and Successes. 213 

‘‘Yes, dear,’’ answered the minister. “These 
things are all right occasionally; but our pur- 
pose here is to save souls. We must put the 
same earnestness and spirit now in spiritual 
work, and we will have even greater success.” 


CHflPTEf^ XXI. 


PICKING UP THE STITCHES. 

LONG letter from Aunt Mary Jane, 
early in the autumn, influenced Mabel 
greatly in her work for the winter. 
Do n’t go looking around for a lot 
of new work, new folks to do for,” wrote the old 
lady. Pick up your dropped stitches. You 
must expect lots of trials with the children yet. 
If a child acts up after professing religion, people 
think it was n’t converted at all ; but see how much 
grace an old Christian has to have not to have 
spells sometimes. Remember, too, your father 
is getting old, and when his Jeg pains him, and 
the rheumatism gets bad, he can’t always be 
sweet as an angel. And do n’t be discouraged if 
some of last year’s converts need a deeper dip. 
Some trees can’t grow without being propped, 
and some folks must be carried to heaven if they 



Picking up the Stitches, 


215 


ever get there. The preacher who has a big re- 
vival is smart ; but if he knows how to keep his 
converts, he is still smarter. It^s like house- 
work, — you Ve just got to keep at it to have a 
clean house, and your family clothed and fed. 
It may be dull work ; but pick up your dropped 
stitches, my child.^’ 

‘‘Perhaps that is why our work grows so 
slowly,’’ Bertha said, when Mabel read this to 
her. “ See how many large city Churches send 
for revivalists, and proclaim a hundred or a thou- 
sand converts, and yet hardly gain at all. But 
perhaps, Mabel, it will not be so when as soon 
as young people join they find a work to do, and 
warm-hearted workers near to help them on.” 

“ I believe more are lost to the Church than 
in any other way by not giving them definite 
work,” replied Mabel; and she left the minister 
to think this over. 

Mabel found a few dropped stitches in her 
own home. The boys had been teasing John 
about being tied to his sister’s apron-strings, and 
Mabel soon became conscious that he was setting 
up for himself in a quiet way. Bessie had a 
very small bump of order, and the extra work 
her thoughtlessness made was one of Mabel’s 
trials. Then, the children were noisy, and Mr. 
Elder nervous. He was getting to be a feeble 
old man, needing tender care. Even his earnest 


2i6 


Corner Work, 


devotion to God did not prevent an occasional 
burst of the ill-temper be had indulged in so 
long. These little slips were followed by pray- 
ers and tears and a closer watchfulness. Mabel 
could not help seeing one of the advantages of 
taking Christ before life-long habits are formed. 
There is grace enough to overcome at any time 
of life ; but those who have become victims of 
wrong tendencies do not always have determina- 
tion to seek the fullness of Christ’s salvation, 
which alone gives complete victory. I suppose 
ill-temper is so often the besetting sin of really 
good people because they do not believe the 
thirteenth chapter of Corinthians. Happily, 
Mabel was living near enough the Savior to re- 
joice in her life, in spite of her trials. 

“I can see how much work mothers have,” 
she confided to Bertha, ‘‘going patiently over 
the same ground, again and again, while train- 
ing their children.” 

“Yes, and that is the way God has to do 
with us. I ’m sure I ’ve had some lessons more 
than once,” answered Bertha. 

“I suppose when a character needs no more 
discipline it is taken to the higher school — 
heaven,” said the minister, who was pretending 
to study a sermon, but was really listening to 
the girls. 

Early in the fall Mabel had driven out to 


Picking up the Stitches. 


217 


Hard Scrabble to make arrangements for butter, 
and even more to see her old friends. The 
Smith family was overjoyed. Mabel took some 
religious papers for grandma, and a pattern for 
Mrs. Smith, and a new book to lend Will. After 
dinner, while their son was feeding the horses, 
the father and mother opened their hearts to 
Mabel. 

‘‘He is so restless. He don’t take to farm- 
work, and he ’s learnt all they teach in this 
deestrict,” said the father. 

“Do you need him through the winter?” 
asked Mabel. 

“O no; not after apple-picking and cider- 
making and husking,” was the answer. 

“O, do let him come to town to school,” 
begged Mabel, eagerly. “ Mrs. Smith has taken 
Ben Davis, from across the river, and he is such 
a nice boy for Will to room with. I know she 
would take the board, in part, in wood, potatoes, 
and butter — perhaps all of it. Professor Worth, 
our high-school teacher, takes special pains with 
boys who come from away, and our minister and 
his wife are just splendid with the young people. 
I know they could get him to join the Church. 
And I ’ll do all I can for him, and he will learn 
so much, and get all over his restlessness.” 

“ Ma, let ’s do it. He ’s all we ’ve got,” said 
the farmer. 


2i8 


Corner Work. 


‘‘ I ’m willing, pa, if you can chore it cold 
winter mornings. I ’d trust twenty boys, if I 
had ’em, with Miss Elder.” 

Tall as he was. Will turned a hand-spring at 
the thought of boarding in town and going to 
school, and was perfectly happy when, after a 
little coaxing from Mabel, his father consented 
to get a “hand” for the fall work, and let him 
begin at once. 

Mabel did not forget the little flat-boat house ; 
in fact she had an errand there. She found the 
boat had been repaired, and was launched in the 
river, securely tied to the Smith landing. 

“We’re going down the river,” explained 
Mr. Sparks, who sat whittling a poplar whistle, 
while his better half was out picking up drift- 
wood for the cooking-stove. 

Mabel had often seen these floating homes. 
The boat was freighted with potatoes, and other 
produce from the farmers, fo be sold on com- 
mission “down the river.” Through Jim’s in- 
dustry during the summer, Mr. Sparks had been 
able to gather up a lot of tinware, which he ex- 
pected to sell in wayside villages. He was car- 
rying his tools ; for he was a tinker in a small 
way, when stern necessity made work impera- 
tive. The little Sparkses loved the water, and 
rejoiced in the prospect of the long journey, 
while Mrs. Sparks welcomed anything that would 


Picking up the Stitches. 


219 


keep the husband of her choice at home all 
winter, even if it had to be a floating one. But 
Jim looked downcast when he came in with a 
string of fish for dinner. He was too active for 
the lazy river-life, and his young teacher had 
awakened ambitions ‘‘ to be like other folks.’’ 

“I hope all these plans will not interfere 
with one I have,” Mabel said, when Mr. Sparks 
had finished a long story about the wonderful 
“luck” he expected “down the river.” “My 
brother entered college this year, and that leaves 
father without a helper. He is able to keep the 
books and see to the men ; but he needs a boy 
to deliver flour, clean up the mill, and sleep 
there. There ’s a nice little room, with a little 
stove for cold weather. Father says a smart 
boy can do it all and go to school, and he will 
give a dollar a week and board for nights and 
mornings and Saturdays. We never boarded 
the boy before; but if you will let James come 
he can eat with us, if he will do the little things 
we expected of Roy. Father can’t lift, you 
know, and Jack is a little lazy about wood and 
kindlings.” 

“ O pl-please try-try me,” stuttered James, 
returning to his old habit in his eagerness. 

“It will be mighty hard for me to row all 
the time,” began Mr. Sparks; but his wife said, 
decidedly: “ I ’ll spell you, then. Jim sha’ n’t 


220 


Corner Work. 


miss this chance for schoolin’ if it breaks every 
bone in my body. Here ’s board and clothes 
provided for.” 

“ I ’ll lend the books, and during vacations 
he will have time to earn more,” said Mabel, 
touched by the eager face of the boy and 
the tears of joy that gleamed in the mother’s 
eyes. 

‘‘ Well, pap, he ’ll go to the Elders, and must 
begin to onc’t. Thank you. Miss Elder; I never 
can pay you for your interest in my poor boy.” 

Mabel stooped and kissed the bent little 
woman good-bye, and went away to carry the 
sunshine of her gratitude many days in her 
heart. 

So, in ‘‘ picking up the stitches,” Mabel soon 
had two brothers to look after. Mrs. Smith was 
a kind-hearted little woman, grateful to the 
Elder family for their help during the flood, and 
she heartily carried out Mabel’s plans for the 
new boarder. There was a great dearth of good, 
manly boys in Vernon. Most of the young men 
who could not get to college went to the city 
for higher wages. Some went on the river, and 
a few ‘‘loafed” at home. Mr. Bruce, the post- 
office clerk, was a fine young man, though not 
a Christian. Mabel went to him and said : 

“Now, Mr. Bruce, you were once a stranger 
here yourself, and know how it feels to be lonely. 


Picking up the Stitches, 


221 


Here are two young men from the country I 
want you to help me with. The wild young 
fellows who go to the saloons will try to tempt 
them away. We must get them started at once 
in the best society. Jim Sparks is homely and 
awkward, and stutters, I know, and he will be 
laughed at on account of his family ; but he 
has a good mother, and there is the making of 
a good man in him. Will Smith is not pol- 
ished, he does not use very good grammar, and 
is quick-tempered ; but he ^s good and true at 
heart. If you would pay these boys a little at- 
tention, that would give them a social standing, 
do n’t you see?” 

Yes, Harry Bruce understood that he was 
handsome and polished, and that his father had 
money, and he was quite a star in the social 
zenith of Vernon. 

“I’ll do all I can,” he answered, pleased at 
being able to help Mabel. “ The girls invited 
me to go to the League social to-night, and I 
will try and take both boys with me.” 

Mabel’s sweet smile and hearty thanks re- 
paid the young man for the sacrifice of not hav- 
ing a pretty girl with him. It required some 
coaxing to get James out in his rough clothes; 
but every one treated him so well he soon for- 
got his dread of being called “countrified.” 
James was very promising at school, and a great 


222 


CORNER WORK, 


help at the mill, but a trial to Mabel at home. 
Of course, he and Matilda, the “ help,” ate at 
the table with the family, as was the custom in 
Vernon. Mabel had taken great pains to teach 
the children how to behave at the table, and her 
soul was much tried when she saw John falling 
into James’s habits. James ate with his knife, 
took his pie in his fingers, picked his teeth with 
a fork, and in many ways spoiled Mabel’s pleas- 
ure at the table. She thought over it, and, of 
course, prayed about it. She was getting Ma- 
tilda to try and please her even with good table 
manners ; but how could she show the ignorant 
boy his mistakes? 

‘‘I am going to give a prize of five dollars to 
the one who behaves best at the table the next 
three months,” she announced, one evening. 

^‘O, I’ll get it,” cried John. ‘‘Then I will 
have enough to get my bicycle.” 

“I shall get it, and buy a gold ring,” said 
Bessie. 

James said nothing, but he looked his deter- 
mination to win. 

“First, I’ll mark every one on neatness. It 
will take off if you come to the table with dirty 
hands or rough hair,” Mabel said. 

“Will a calico shirt and old clothes count 
off?” asked James, eagerly. 

“Not if your coat is on and everything is 


Picking up the Stitches. 


223 


clean/^ answered Mabel. Germany it is 

considered perfectly polite to eat with a knife, 
but it is not in America. People do n’t pick 
their teeth at the table any more ; but I ’ll write 
a list and tack it up in the kitchen, so you can 
see just what I expect for the prize.” 

James was quick-witted enough to know this 
was to help him, and he determined, for his 
friend’s sake, as well as the money, he would 
not disappoint her. He had been stung to the 
quick by some of the fun that had been made 
over him by his school-mates. He had been 
nicknamed “Moses,” because “he had come out 
of the bulrushes, and was found floating on the 
river,” the boys said. But for his love for his 
first real teacher, he would have followed the 
flat-boat during the first hard weeks. Bertha’s 
quick perception discovered his trouble, and she 
made him a special object of attention. He 
was very apt with tools, and most of the work 
on the booths at the “calendar carnival” was 
done by James’s skillful hands. 

“ We never could have carried it through 
without Mr. Sparks,” Bertha said to the other 
young people, and they began to treat the young 
fellow with the respect he longed for. 

Just after the carnival, when Mabel was re- 
joicing over James in his great improvement, 
an unexpected trouble came upon her. It was 


224 


Corner Work, 


a cold December evening, and the fire seemed 
very inviting. Mabel determined to have a few 
home evenings. With so much to call people 
away from home, the picture of a whole family 
around the evening lamp will soon be only a 
pleasant story of the past. Mabel and Bertha 
determined their homes should have home even- 
ings, come what would ; so some evenings were 
set apart just to be at home in. Mabel always 
was ready to read aloud or talk to her father 
and the children, planning to have a basket of 
fruit on the center-table, to be hospitable, if any 
one ‘‘dropped in.” Occasionally she brought 
home some treat for the children, or had them 
roast apples or pop corn. This evening Mr. 
Elder was taking a nap on the sofa,, John had 
lessons on hand, and Bessie a new story-book, 
so Mabel could write Roy a long, newsy letter. 
In her brother’s letters she never “preached,” 
yet she did not try to keep back the peace and 
joy that came to her life from walking with 
Christ. After Roy, Mabel had another friend to 
remember; but before she began the second 
letter she stepped to the back window, she 
hardly knew why. This overlooked the mill. 
There was a bright light in James’s room. The 
mill was on fire ! 

She drew down the curtain and flew off like 
a bird, giving John a warning touch with a 


Picking up the Stitches. 225 

glance that showed father was not to be dis- 
turbed. Mabel had presence of mind enough to 
snatch the mill-key that hung in the hall. She 
knew James was in his room, and perhaps 
asleep. 

‘‘Run for the neighbors, while I see to 
James,” she cried to John, as they rushed out 
together. She soon unlocked the outside door, 
and was at the door of the little bed-room. 

“Jim! Jim!” she screamed, opening the door, 
in spite of flame and smoke. On the bed lay the 
young man, asleep, while his books and papers 
were blazing on the table beside him. The white 
window-curtains were beginning to burn, and 
the bedding was just catching the flame. 

“James, you will be burnt up in a mo- 
ment!” shouted Mabel, shaking him with all her 
might, ready to faint herself with the heat and 
smoke. 

James opened his eyes sleepily, and then 
was fully alive to the danger. There was no 
fire department in Vernon, so every one was 
ready. James kept several barrels of water and 
pails just outside his door; so he sprang for 
these, and in a moment had the place deluged 
with water. Mabel snatched his overcoat and 
two books, saving them, but burning her hands 
in the act. She herself might have been in 
danger had not John, followed by some neigh- 
i.s 


226 


Corner Work, 


bors, rushed in and drawn her away from the 
flames. 

Just as the last particle of fire was put out 
by James, old Mr. Elder hobbled in, trembling 
with excitement. He was the first to discover 
the cause of the trouble. An old cob-pipe, half 
filled with red coals, on the table, told its own 
story. 

‘‘ So this is the way you protect my prop- 
erty and repay my daughter’s kindness,’^ roared 
the irate old gentleman, holding up the pipe, 
and shaking his cane threateningly at the white- 
faced culprit. ‘‘ This is the last time you will 
ever smoke your contemptible tobacco on my 
premises. But for my brave girl your worthless 
head would have burned, and all I ’ve got to de- 
pend on.” 

‘‘Dear father, do go in; it’s damp here,” 
pleaded Mabel. 

“No; we’ll settle it now and here,” cried 
the old gentleman. “I’m too poor to help a 
boy who can afford tobacco, and I hate a sneak. 
I’m not going to see my property destroyed be- 
fore my very eyes; so, young man — ” 

“Come, father,” Mabel said, in her deter- 
mined way, and she led him off before he re- 
alized what he was doing. “We’ll talk it over, 
and do just what you say; but you must not be 
in the cold another moment.” She knew if he 


Picking up the Stitches. 227 

dismissed James in anger it would be bard to 
take it back in a calmer moment. ‘‘Of course, 
he was brought up on tobacco. I ought to have 
warned him against it; but I never noticed it. 
I do n’t blame you, father. He must go if you 
feel you can not give him another trial for Roy’s 
sake.” 

This, with Mabel’s good-night kiss, made 
Mr. Elder remember a man with boys of his 
own could not afford to be too harsh with an- 
other boy’s first offense. Mabel went to bed 
disappointed and humiliated, for she had cher- 
ished a little pride over her success with James. 

“I’m afraid I’ve depended too much on my 
own strength,” she thought. “I went to God 
first with Will; but I think I meant to hand this 
boy over to the Lord for a new heart after I 
had made a gentleman of him. Now I remem- 
ber, I heard father forbid tobacco in any form ; 
so he knew better.” 

The next morning the breakfast-bell was 
rung out the back door, as usual, for James ; but 
he did not come. He had been up, and carried 
the coal, and cleaned the walk. Mabel threw a 
shawl over her head, and ran down to the mill. 
Everything was in order, and in the middle of 
the big room all of James’s belongings were tied 
up in a red bandanna, and he stood over them, 
crying like a child. 


228 


Corner Work, 


‘‘Come to breakfast, James,’’ Mabel said, 
kindly. 

“I feel worse thinking bow 'mean I’ve been 
than losing the only chance I ever had. I 
don’t ask your father to ever take me back; but 
I hope he ’ll forgive me. I ’ve left all I had — 
two dollars — to pay for all the burnt things but 
your hands. Miss Elder;” and he caught the one 
that had a bright red scar, and kissed it rever- 
ently. “You ’re the first person, except ma, who 
ever cared anything about me ; and but for you I 
would have been dead, and I ain’t fit to die.” 

“James, I have n’t thought enough about 
getting you ready for heaven, I was so anxious to 
have you to learn. Now I want, most of all, that 
you find Jesus for your friend; then you can re- 
sist any temptation,” said Mabel, tears in her 
own eyes. 

“I tried to give up smoking; but I can’t,” 
said James. 

“Yes you can, with God’s help. Come, 
James; but for God’s mercy you would have been 
burnt up. You should give yourself to him 
right here and now.” 

Mabel forgot all about breakfast and every- 
thing but the penitent soul beside her, as they 
knelt on the bare floor, and she poured out her 
soul in prayer. James followed with a simple, 
childlike petition, and when they arose there 


Picking up the Stitches, 229 

was a look on his freckled face that was like the 
shining of the sun of peace. 

“I want to ask your father’s pardon first, 
and then I will go ; and I promise yon, no mat- 
ter wdiere I go, I will be a Christian, Miss 
Elder,” said James, earnestly. 

“You needn’t go, my son,” said a kind 
voice, and Mr. Elder came forward and held out 
his hand. “Give up tobacco, and I’ll try you 
again.” 

“ Thank you, kindly, sir. You ’ll never re- 
gret this goodness,” answered James. 

The struggle was a hard one ; but with God’s 
help, the boy soon lost his terrible longing for 
tobacco. He insisted on having the burnt cur- 
tain and table left to remind him of his care- 
lessness, and the pipe was left in plain sight, 
too. He was safe, even with this relic ; for the 
little mill-room had become a place of prayer. 

Roy was to spend his vacation at home, and 
Mabel was busy with pleasant holiday plans. 
The character of Vernon society had changed 
much in the last year. An earnestness of pur- 
pose had come to the young people ; an appre- 
ciation of culture in its highest sense, a desire 
for spiritual growth, and a delight in philan- 
thropic and religious work. As Roy said, when* 
he returned, “ I believe Vernon will soon be as 
delightful a spot as there is on ‘earth.” 


230 


Corner Work. 


The Sunday before Christmas Mr. Lindley 
had arranged to take a number into the Church. 
The minister made a few earnest remarks to 
those about to enter fully into God’s earthly 
household; then he stopped and said: 

‘‘Is any one here who has lately given his 
heart to God, or desires to, who will come for- 
ward with these new Church children, and be 
one with us?” 

There was a movement in the Elder pew, 
and Roy walked forward in the manly way he 
always had. At the same moment James Sparks 
started towards the front, and after a moment’s 
hesitation Will Smith joined him. Mabel could 
not keep back tears of joy over such a golden 
harvest in the same hour. 

“Roy,” she said, that night, “when did you 
become a Christian?” 

“Mabel, I can’t tell. I first determined to 
the night ma died. Then I got angry, and ran 
away; still, some way the wish to be good staid 
by me. East winter things grew clearer; but I 
lacked the courage to make a bold step. Still, I 
began praying. Dr. Washburn helped me at 
Bay View, and when I went to college I natu- 
rally turned toward the religious boys. I know 
I am a new creature; but it’s been a gradual 
coming into the light, and my greatest desire is 
to be a minister, and teach others the way.’^ 


Picking up the Stitches. 231 

‘‘Dear Roy,” said Mabel, “I believe mother 
knows up in heaven her prayers are answered, 
and rejoices with us. My work will be in a 
quiet corner, but maybe you can be the mis- 
sionary.” 

“O, Mabel, that’s just what I hope to be,” 
answered Roy. “I wonder more young preach- 
ers do not seek the foreign fields, where the 
harvest is so white and workers are so few.” 

“ We will tell father,” said Mabel ; and he 
listened joyfully to his son’s desires. 

“ Thank God, my boy. May you retrieve 
your father’s life with your own !” he said, sol- 
emnly* 



cHnPTEfj XXII. 

VISITING EVELYN. 

T seems hardly worth while to plan 
pleasant things in this world,” sighed 
Mabel the next day, when a letter 
from Evelyn’s husband brought a 
cloud over the happy household. “If Evelyn 
is dangerously sick, I must go at once; and, 
Roy, I ’ve been looking forward so to your visit.” 

“Poor Evelyn!” said Roy. “I suppose it is 
hard to be sick at a hotel. Does father think 
you ought to go ?” 

“ Yes, and bring her home when she is able to 
be moved. O Roy, my life is so perfectly happy 
now I hardly know how to have Evelyn come in 
and spoil it. But this shows how selfish I am 
growing, and how I need to give up something. 
I do not believe she realized her expected happi- 
ness in her marriage. She soon tired of steam- 
232 



Visiting Evelyn 




boat life, and, of course, staying alone at a hotel 
is n’t pleasant. Then, she is so jealous she hates 
to have the captain off alone. All this I heard 
from a friend. You know, she seldom writes, 
and has never once stopped to see us, though 
we ’ve written for her again and again.” 

“Just like Ev.,” answered Roy. 

“After all, Roy,” Mabel went on, as if she 
were thinking of something else. “The mar- 
riage that brings no disappointment is one like 
Bertha’s, where people are trying to live for 
God and others, as well as for themselves alone.” 

“Can’t say, ma’am,” replied the young man. 
“Have n’t had any experience, or given the sub- 
ject a moment’s thought, which is more than 
my fair sister can say, I warrant.” 

Mabel laughed and blushed, and called him 
a saucy boy, and declared a school-teacher, who 
had the care of a home as well, had no time for 
sentimental thoughts. 

There were great plans for Christmas — a 
tree Christmas eve, and a family dinner next 
day, taking in, of course, the preacher’s family. 
The Sunday-school entertainment was to be a 
fine affair. A snow-house and Santa Claus, and 
the price of admission potatoes, apples, or some- 
thing for poor people needing help. There were 
to be no poor children without some Christmas 
cheer that year in Vernon, thanks to the prep- 


234 


Corner Work. 


arations made by the young ladies of the Ep- 
worth League. Bertha was to have a cobweb 
party, the day after Christmas, for her Juniors. 
She expected to suspend a cobweb of strings 
from the hanging-lamp in the back parlor, these 
strings leading all over the house. Each child 
would find a little present at the end of the 
string. The presents were not valuable ; but, as 
Bertha expected, there was great fun in finding 
them. Mabel was thinking of all she had prom- 
ised to do, when Roy said : 

“I ’ll try and carry out your plans, and help 
Bertha with her party, if you ’ll go to-day, Ma- 
bie. If Evelyn should die without being a 
Christian, you would never forgive yrfurself.” 

‘‘No, indeed. I never thought of not going, 
only I ’ve wasted some precious time rebelling 
over it,” answered his sister as she started off 
to get ready. 

“I’ll see the children have fun enough to 
spoil them,” said Roy, as Mabel was saying 
good-bye. 

“And do n’t forget the wreath for ma’s pic- 
ture,” she said, as the stage stopped at the gate. 

The journey was a tedious one, though the 
distance was not great; but Mabel was busy 
with her own thoughts, and did not mind the 
long day. She was wondering how she could 
help the sister whose life had been a constant 


Visiting Evelyn. 


235 


discord with herself and everybody else. She 
had telegraphed her coming, thinking it might 
reassure Evelyn ; so Captain Harper was wait- 
ing at the depot. ^ 

‘‘ I ’m mighty glad you came,’’ he said. 

Evvy ’s just wild to see you. The doctor 
thinks you can quiet her. It’s typhoid fever, 
you know. I ’m expected to be on the down 
boat next week ; but I won’t go, if Evvy is n’t 
better.” 

Mabel’s heart warmed towards her brother- 
in-law as she noticed the tender anxiety in his 
tones. She was thankful there was at least one 
person who loved Evelyn in spite of her self- 
ishness. 

In a very pleasant room in the Emery Hotel 
Mabel found her sister, looking like the shadow 
of herself. Mabel had had much experience 
with sick people, and she felt at once Evelyn’s 
hours were numbered. Evelyn recognized her 
at once. 

“O Mabel, how good of you to come, just at 
Christmas time, when Roy is home !” she whis- 
pered. “ I ’ve always been so mean to you, too. I 
was so jealous because every one loved you best. 
But I ’m going to die, Mabel, and I ’m not ready. 
Don’t leave me again,” and she clung to Mabel 
like a frightened child. 

“ No, dear sister,” answered Mabel, covering 


236 


Corner Work, 


the flushed, swollen face with the first kisses of 
love she had ever given her sister. “ I going 
to stay and nurse you, and when you get well, 
take you home, and we will have a good time 
there.” 

Evelyn sobbed pitifully, and clung to Mabel, 
at last gasping out : 

“ I heard the doctor tell the nurse last nighty 
when they thought I was asleep, that I could 
live but a few days. Do n’t make me want to 
live any worse than I do, but tell me how to die.” 

Mabel knew her sister w^as under a terrible 
excitement, and feared the result of letting her 
say another word ; but she could not let her go 
away in the dark. 

Evvy,” she said, laying the burning head 
back on the pillow, “just give yourself up to 
Jesus, and ask him to forgive you and take you, 
and he will.” 

“ But, Mabel, it seems mean to turn away 
from God all my life, and then, when there is 
hope nowhere else, to look to him,” the sick 
girl said. 

“Jesus took the thief on the cross at the last 
moment. Trust him, love, trust him,” was the 
low answer. 

“Trust him; yes, I will trust him,” Evelyn 
murmured, then sank away in a spell of death- 
like exhaustion. 


Visiting Evelyn 


237 


Just then the doctor and nurse came in. 

‘‘I fear the excitement of my coming was too 
much for my sister,” Mabel said, tearfully. 

The doctor shook his head. 

‘‘ I would rather see this than the state she 
was in raving for you. Keep her quiet now, 
though she had better say what she wants when 
she is conscious.” 

After that Evelyn took no notice of any one, 
making that distressing moan characteristic of 
the last stages of this disease. Christmas was 
a very sad day. The husband and sister could 
only watch the battle for life and pray; at least 
Mabel did. She often thought how it would 
comfort her father that Evelyn turned to Christ 
in her last conscious moments. 

‘‘ I think this will be the last night ; the doc- 
tor said the night after Christmas. The fever 
has reached its crisis, and she has no strength 
to rally.” 

About midnight the anxious watchers saw a 
change. The purple flush died away; the half- 
closed, glazed eyes were shut; the aged, drawn 
look left the face ; but it was like the face 
of the dead in its white stillness. The doctor 
was called in from the adjoining parlor, where 
he waited. 

‘‘Captain,” he whispered, “the crisis has 
passed. Your wife is now sleeping naturally. 


238 


Corner Work. 


Unless nature is too exhausted, she will get 
well.” 

“ Thank God !” sobbed the captain, com- 
pletely overcome with this unexpected joy. 

“It is through his mercy. Captain,” whis- 
pered Mabel. “You must help her trust him 
now. Remember her last words.” 

The next morning showed a decided change, 
though it was days before Evelyn was out of 
danger. She was at first very sweet and pa- 
tient; but she soon grew disgusted with her 
limited diet, and was at times a trying patient. 

Evelyn Harper returned from the border of 
the grave with a new soul ; but one governed by 
a weak and frail body. Sometimes Mabel feared 
she had lost the trust she had when she seemed 
to be dying; but as the days and weeks went 
by, it was evident Evelyn was trying to be good 
and think of others. Mabel had one red-letter 
day in the midst of a good many dreary ones. 
The doctor had ordered her out for a walk on 
New-Year’s day. She was so tired she brushed 
against a gentleman in the hall, not having no- 
ticed his approach. 

“Pardon me,” she said; but instead of let- 
ting her step aside, the young man caught both 
of her hands in a very decided way. Mabel 
looked up in indignant surprise, to see the mis- 
chievous eyes of Frank Hays beaming upon her. 


Visiting Evelyn, 


239 


‘‘O, Frank she cried — ‘‘Mr. Hays/’ she 
corrected, remembering she had never used his 
Christian name before. 

“ Mabel,” he answered, not making any effort 
to correct himself. 

“How did you happen to come here?” she 
asked, conscious that the elevator boy was en- 
joying the scene. 

“I went to Vernon to spend part of my holi- 
days — of course, to see Roy, whom I love like a 
brother, and had n’t seen for two weeks. There 
being no direct railroad from Vernon, of course 
I had to come to a place connected with the city 
of the Northwest. Coming into a hotel, imagine 
my surprise to have a young lady rush into my 
arms.” 

“Tell me about home; we’ll go to the par- 
lor,” Mabel said, quickly moving on. “ The 
doctor drove me off. This is the first time I ’ve 
felt like leaving sister long enough for a walk.” 

“You do look wbrn,” said the young man, 
anxiously ; “ but not as pale as when you struck 
me.” This last in his teasing way. 

“O, they keep these halls like a furnace,” 
answered Mabel. “ Come, let us walk out, in- 
stead of sitting in that stuffy parlor.” 

During their brisk walk Mabel kept Frank 
busy answering her shower of questions. 

“There is a fine oratorio at the Music Hall to- 


240 


Corner Wore, 


night,” he said, as they returned, and Mabel de- 
clared she could not leave Evelyn another mo- 
ment. “ Evelyn will be asleep, and the music 
will rest you, and you will be better able to care 
for her to-morrow.” 

‘‘No, Mr. Hays,” answered Mabel, resenting 
the young man’s matter-of-course way. “ Ev- 
erything depends on the nursing, and I do n’t 
dare leave her so long yet.” 

“Very well; I will come and inquire how 
your sister is, anyway. I must take the mid- 
night train for Chicago, if I finish what I came 
for. If not, I will stay to-morrow, or longer, if 
necessary. You must help me off, for this is a 
busy time with us,” said Mr. Hays, giving Ma- 
bel a glance rather hard for that young lady to 
meet. 

Mabel was glad to escape to her own room a 
moment before going to Evelyn. She was too 
straightforward herself to need any more ex- 
planations of Frank’s reaching Chicago by the 
way of Cincinnati. But while she felt anything 
but grieved over the new attitude of her old 
friend, she was not ready for their pleasant, 
helpful friendship to change in any way. Her 
own life seemed clearly marked out. Her father 
needed her, as well as the children and Evelyn. 
Then, all she could save from her earnings 
must go towards Roy’s education. She was al- 


Visiting Evelyn, 


241 


most glad when the nurse said she had a head- 
ache, and begged to be allowed to sleep from 
eight until midnight. Captain Harper was 
obliged to meet the boat he could not take, so 
Mabel must watch in the sick-room. When 
Frank sent up his card she went down to ex- 
plain matters. 

hn sorry to miss the music and disappoint 
you,’’ she said, in her straightforward way. 

‘‘ Yet not quite ready for .the talk you know 
I came to have,” he answered, in his direct 
manner. 

“ Not quite,” she murmured, studying the 
figures in the carpet carefully. 

‘‘Well, I can wait,” he said, manfully. “You 
know it is a disappointment to me. I seldom 
fail in my undertakings ; but I do not want your 
answer until you are as sure of your heart as I 
am of mine.” 

“ I have so many to think of besides myself,” 
stammered Mabel. “Father is old, and the chil- 
dren will need a mother for several years, and — ” 

“I ’ve promised to come to Vernon, and give 
an address to the young people, in the spring. 
You know, I have been called out in public in 
young people’s work lately. I shall expect an 
answer then. Can’t I?” 

“Yes,” answered Mabel, still trying to find 
out if the carpet matched perfectly. 

16 


242 Corner Work. 

“I suppose I ought to let you go at once to 
your sister, as she is alone. We hi write, just 
the same, Mabel,’’ he said, taking her hand to 
say good-bye. 

‘‘Yes,” answered Mabel, without looking up. 

“ I believe ‘yes’ is all a young man requires, 
anyway,” said the undaunted young man. 

Mabel could not help raising her eyes, with 
a smile, and there is no knowing how the young 
man would have interpreted that glance had not 
the bell-boy, who was to wait outside Evelyn’s 
door, appeared, with, “Mrs. Harper wants Miss 
Elder, quick.” 

Mabel hardly stopped to say “good-bye,” 
and Frank hesitated between shaking the in- 
truder or giving him a quarter.* The latter 
generous sentiment prevailed, and, brightened 
by a smile of gratitude, the young man started 
off, first picking up a dainty handkerchief, with 
“ Mabel ” worked in the corner. 

“Shall I hand it to Miss Elder?” grinned 
the boy. 

“I will myself,” replied Mr. Hays, handing 
out another quarter, which the youngster real- 
ized meant silence. 

Frank remembered a poor clerk in the neigh- 
borhood he had met, and hunted him up for the 
vacant seat at the concert, and gave the young 
home-sick fellow a great treat. But as for the 


Visiting Evelyn 


243 


Chicago young business man, the exquisite 
music might as well have been a comb concert, 
for all he heard ; for he thought he had 
read in that bright, half-tearful glance of the 
brown eyes he loved best a promise of future 
happiness. This Mabel did not know. At first 
she was kept very busy getting Evelyn out of 
one of the sinking spells so alarming during her 
first w^eeks of convalescence. After her sister 
was sleeping naturall)^, Mabel feared she had 
disappointed and pained, and perhaps driven 
away forever, her friend. She would not allow 
herself to call him anything else; but she could 
not keep her thoughts from the Music Hall, and 
later from following the Chicago night-express. 

“ I must let you go, Mabie,’^ Evelyn said, a 
few days later. “ I shall never forget all you 
have done. I know I am often cross and un- 
reasonable ; but then I hn really trying to be 
good. I so want the rest and peace you have. 
Eife hardly seems worth living without it.’^ 

‘‘I am sure no one ever asks, ‘Is life worth 
living?’ who truly loves God,” answered Mabel. 
“ Because, if everything else is taken away, 
knowing the Savior is near, and that we are 
working for him, is enough to make one happy.” 

“I believe it would be so for you, you are 
such a real Christian,” said Evelyn. “ How I 
will miss you !” 


244 Corner Work. 

“ O, I ’m not going to leave you. I have 
gotten a substitute in school, and Bertha runs 
in every day to see that the girl does all right. 
The doctor says you will be able to be moved in 
a week or two,” said Mabel, brightly. 

I just long to see the old home ; but I can ’t 
even stand alone yet. I will have to begin life 
all over again, every way,” said Evelyn. 

It was the first of February before Mabel 
dared risk the journey with Evelyn. She went 
on the boat, and everything was made as easy 
as possible. Mabel was thankful it was an 
open winter ;” for often the Ohio is a better 
skating pond than a pathway for travelers 
through the winter, and if the stage-ride had 
been in prospect, Evelyn must have waited for 
more strength. She looked so thin and white, 
with such a softened, child-like expression on 
her face, her father cried over her like a child, 
w^hile the children welcomed her lovingly. 

“ I did not know you all cared so much for 
me, or I would have come sooner,” she said. 
‘‘ I want to be a comfort to you, dear father.” 

The next day Mabel found Evelyn feebly 
penciling a letter to her husband. 

‘‘You are too tired to write, dear,” she re- 
monstrated, gently. 

“No, I must begin right with Henry. I 
never tried to make him happy ; I was thinking 


Visiting Evelyn, 


245 


so iiuicli about having a gay life. But I never 
knew how much we loved each other until I 
thought we had to part. I long to make him 
happy and help him to be a different man. He is 
so good-natured and big-hearted; but he is in a ^ 
life full of temptations. You know his danger/’ 
and the young wife turned away to hide her tears. 

Mabel knew very well her brother-in-law 
was too fond of his wine, and that his wife had 
been aroused to his danger none too soon. 

‘‘Love him, Evelyn. I know he is worthy, 
he is so kind-hearted. Pray for him, and win 
him to Christ ; then he will be safe,” said Mabel. 

“I’ve tried scolding; but he would only 
laugh, or, if he had too much, get angry with 
me,” Evelyn said, sadly. “ But then I did not 
try to make him happy^ so ought not to have 
expected him to deny himself for my sake.” 

“ I often think of the old fable — how the saw 
and pick and ax tried to break the stubborn 
iron, and the little flame crept around it and 
conquered by melting it to the heart. And you 
know, in our old Reader, about the traveler and 
the cloak the sunbeam got off when the storm 
failed,” said Mabel. 

“Yes,” answered Evelyn, smiling; “but 1 
suppose the flame had to work away quite a 
while, and the sunshine keep on until the cloak 
was too warm.” 


246 


Corner Work. 


‘‘Yes; I find that out in managing my chil- 
dren at school and at home. Sharp measures 
seem to bring about the quickest good results ; 
but it is like cutting off a weed with a knife. 
The roots are there, ready to spring up at the 
first opportunity. The only lasting victory is 
to overcome evil with good.’’ 

Evelyn was silent with her thoughts a long 
time, and then Bertha came in, bringing, as 
usual, a flood of sunshine with her. This time 
she was full of the special meetings which were 
just closing. 

“Twenty converts for this small town is very 
encouraging, Edwin says. All the more because 
there was no special excitement — just a meeting 
together of Christians to pray for, and show the 
way to those out of the fold. We missed you 
in our Workers’ Band, Mabel.” 

“And I missed the uplifting of these meet- 
ings, Bertha. Tell me about the Band. Edwin 
said but for it he would not have been able to 
do anything, owing to so much sickness, bad 
weather, and general indifference.” 

“Twenty of us pledged ourselves to be home 
guards, or minute men, to help our captain. We 
were to be present at every meeting, or send 
some one in our places, and, if possible, take 
one person. This meant, no matter how it 
stormed, forty would be present. Then, each 


Visiting Evelyn 


247 


was to be ready to sing, testify, or pray quick 
and to the point. Of course, there were no 
times of dragging; for, before the minute men 
got through, the older members would get waked 
up, ready to speak or do anything that was 
asked by the preacher. This would sometimes 
make several stand to speak at once, which 
made the services lively and earnest. We met 
five or ten minutes before service to pray for 
the preacher, and for the unconverted, and for 
ourselves as workers ; so we went into the big 
room ready to help. Of course, no one can 
help who is not full of God’s Spirit. It was a 
lovely time, Mabel. We who gave ourselves as 
minute men were the most blest of all, and we 
all say we never had a happier month in our 
lives.” 

Evelyn smiled at Bertha through tears that 
were happy ones. She had all her life been 
seeking happiness, and failed. Now she was 
finding real joy in a life for others and for God. 


CHflPTEPj XXIII. 

THK DKSIRKD HAVEN. 


ABEL found the first few weeks after 
her visit trying ones ; for her school 
had been badly governed, and many 
things had been neglected by Tillie 
at home. Bertha and her husband were too 
busy to be as social as usual. They were ‘^gath- 
ering the aftermath,’’ as Mr. Lindley called it. 
If a soul showed any signs of awakening, this 
minister did not forget it as soon as the special 
services were over. He regarded “a protracted 
meeting” as an opportunity to find out those 
who had even interest enough in themselves to 
come to church. 

“ There are always those who come to every 
revival service, and yet go away tinmoved,” said 
Mabel, in one of the rare visits she was able to 
make at the parsonage now. “Jennie White 
248 



The Desired Haven. 


249 


said to me yesterday she had been preached at 
so much she was gospel hardened.’’ 

‘‘Yes; but that does not prove she can not 
be reached some other way,” spoke up Bertha. 
“Who can doubt Roy’s conversion? Yet revi- 
val sermons never affected him in the least, 
while one brought me into the light.” ^ 

“I’m more and more convinced it is the 
hand-to-hand battle,” said the minister. “Times 
of special refreshing are necessary to good 
growth ; but it is the daily working that tells in 
everything. People can not possibly come to 
the church every night in the year ; but they 
can work for souls just the same. If the young 
people still bring their unconverted friends to 
prayer-meeting and young people’s meeting, 
they will be reached in time. I have now a 
special hour each day. I am ready to see any 
one who wants to talk about being better. If 
no one comes, I pray for the unconverted.” 

“ I shall urge as many as possible to read our 
‘Helping Hand Library.’” 

This was a League matter that Bertha 
started. She and Edwin had a well-selected 
supply of books helpful in the religious life. 
Several people contributed to enlarge this 
library, and some lent treasured books, so many 
souls were growing in grace under the blessed 
influence of these books. 


250 


Corner Worr’. 


‘‘I will take special pains with my children,” 
said Bertha. ‘‘Of course, it is easier for little 
Christians to get discouraged than those who 
are supposed to have stronger wills and better 
judgment.” 

“Our Wednesday evening meeting promises 
well; though at first we felt it a sacrifice to give 
up an evening, we have so few for reading and 
studying.” 

“ Since I ’m not invited, tell me what I miss,” 
said Mabel. 

“ What I could n’t have done a year ago,” 
answered the minister, giving his young wife an 
appreciative glance. “ I have been trying for 
some time to solve the question why our Church 
loses so many converts before they become fully 
connected with the Church. I believe because 
they are not taken into things at once. Well, 
Wednesday evening we invite all who are on 
probation to come to our home. Most of them 
come regularly, and all occasionally. We first 
have a little prayer-meeting. No one is called 
by name, but each one is urged to pray. Then, 
just sitting around in a cozy way, each one tells 
his difficulties, if any. Bertha generally finds 
some helpful book, or chapter in the Bible, or 
promise, to meet the case. Last week ‘Step- 
ping Heavenward,’ for Mrs. Hart, who has so 
much to contend with at home; ‘Miss Haver- 


The Desierd Haven. 251 

gaps Life,’ for Nellie Watson, because she loves 
worldly things so much. ‘Faith Made Easy,’ 
by Dr. Potts, helps many to a deeper consecra- 
tion. Then we talk over Church matters — 
baptism, the Lord’s Supper, why it is a duty 
and help to belong to a Church, and why our 
Church has certain rules we should try to ob- 
serve. To make it an informal home gather- 
ing, sometimes we bring in apples. Last time 
Bertha had tea, made on her oil-stove, and cook- 
ies. It ’s some trouble, and a trifling expense ; 
but if I can keep these twenty young converts — 
some weak yet — it will be a well-rewarded 
labor.” 

“ Then, Edwin tries to set each one to work,” 
interposed his wife. “ Even poor little Robbie 
Pearce has brought two children to Sunday- 
school.” 

“Yes, and Bertha makes a special effort to 
call on those who just started, even if she neg- 
lects every one else for a few months. She is 
trying to have the different old members visit 
the new ones every few days, until they have 
been welcomed by every member in the Church 
during the first few months. By that time they 
will feel at home, and not need this special at- 
tention.” 

“I’m ready to work now, and Evelyn will 
join us and do all she can,” said Mabel. 


252 


Corner Work, 


I want Evelyn to help me in the children’s 
work. I ’ve found already she has a regular tal- 
ent for story-telling,” said Bertha. 

“It don’t take you long to find' a person’s 
gifts and graces,” answered Mabel, laughing. 
“Yes, Evelyn can entertain children delight- 
fully, when she will.” 

Evelyn entered gladly into this new work as 
soon as her strength allowed. The first children’s 
meeting she led was held in the Elder parlor, 
and the children were charmed with her stories. 
She had been an inveterate reader, and now this 
came to good purpose. Children love a change. 
A new face, a different voice, or another way of 
doing things, will awaken fresh interest, even 
if the new leader be less competent than the 
old. So Bertha saw her work prosper while she 
took a much needed rest herself. 

February proved one of those sunny, spring- 
like months which often cheat Old Winter out 
of twenty-eight days on the Ohio. Evelyn re- 
covered rapidly, and was for the first time en- 
joying life. John had always been her aversion 
and she his special trial. Now, when she longed 
to wun his heart, he still held aloof, though Bes- 
sie was kind and loving. 

“ She will be as hateful as ever when she 
gets real well,” John confided to his little sister. 

“ I deserve it all,” Evelyn said humbly to 


The Desired IJaeen. 


253 


herself, when she overheard this unkind remark; 
and she was delighted to find an opportunity 
that day to show her good-will towards her 
brother. 

“All the boys are getting watches,’’ John 
complained. “Janies has earned the five dol- 
lars at the table, and I suppose I ’ll not have 
even a nickel watch. It’s hard to always have 
to ask the other fellows the time.” 

“John,” spoke up Evylyii, “I think I can 
find a way for you to earn money for a watch j 
but just now I ’d like to have you carry mine. 
It ’s a bother to keep it wound up, now I am so 
weak.” 

“ O Ev., you don’t mean your smashing gold 
watch!” cried John. 

“Yes; run up-stairs and get it, and I’ll 
show you how to wind it. You can wear it as 
long as I stay, for the trouble of taking care of 
it,” answered his sister. 

“ But I might break it,” said John, his- face 
aglow at the prospect of such a time-piece. “I 
do n’t fight any more ; but I ’m one of the Ex- 
celsior nine, and if a base-ball would strike me — ” 

“ O, you can take off your coat ; but if you 
should break it I can easily have it mended, so 
don’t worry a minute over that,” Evelyn said 
so sweetly John bounded up-stairs two steps at 
a time. 


254 


Corner Worn. 


It was one of the captain’s costly gifts ; but 
Evelyn knew her easy-going husband did not 
care what became of it, and she put aside her 
own misgivings when she saw John’s happy 
face, and how often he had to refer to his 
vest-pocket for the hour, even though the 
old “wall-sweep” in the corner was as reliable 
as the sun. Bertha had never known the old 
unhappy Evelyn personally, so she had no 
prejudices to overcome, and took this delicate- 
looking, sweet-spirited, new-born little woman 
to her heart in a way that would have made 
even Mabel jealous, but for a sweet little secret 
of her own, — at least would have made Mabel 
have an opportunity to give up for others, for 
she had so long been Bertha’s dearest girl 
friend. 

Having some one to love her for herself, and 
not to do her good, was like sunshine to Eve- 
lyn’s heart. The “ Pansies” loved her too, and, 
through her husband’s generous interest, Eve- 
lyn had what Bertha had lacked, plenty of 
money for picture-cards, a blackboard, and 
crayons and other things, which greatly inter- 
ested the children. Captain Harper was so de- 
lighted over his wife’s improvement in every 
way, he would have liked to give something 
to every child in town during his brief visit. 
Mabel had visited ‘a children’s hospital in Cin- 


The Desired Haven. 


255 


cinnati, so she suggested the pretty scrap-books 
Evelyn soon had her little people make. 

Sometimes this work tried Evelyn’s nerves 
almost to distraction, and sometimes her old 
selfishness and habit of constant complaining 
seamed determined to gain the mastery. These 
things kept her child-like and humble in spirit. 
As she said to Mrs. Lewis: ‘‘Others go forward 
on wings ; but I just step slowly and trem- 
blingly, clinging to the Savior every moment for 
fear of falling.” 

Mrs. Lewis had always seen good qualities 
in Evelyn when others did not. She could sym- 
pathize with her hours of suffering as Mabel 
and Bertha could not with their healthy nerves. 
Evelyn crept up the hill to this “ hill-top ” 
saint before she was hardly able to walk. The 
invalid was like a ship in calm water, just out- 
side the harbor, all storms and rough billows 
past, calling good-cheer to passing vessels, and 
telling them where to prepare for high winds, 
and how to avoid reefs and at last reach the 
desired haven. Every one who entered that 
darkened chamber of pain these last weeks car- 
ried away some of the sunlight of heaven. This 
was especially so with Evelyn, who could open 
her heart to this old friend as to no one else. 

“I have found an old ‘Life of Saint Catha- 
rine,’” she said, one day. “You know she used 


256 


Corner Work. 


to scourge herself with small cords until the blood 
ran down her tender flesh, and she had her beau- 
tiful hair cut off to make her less attractive ; but 
it took away her desire for wordly things. I am 
so alraid, when I get with my husband’s gay 
friends again, I will want that kind of a life, 
and lose this peace I have now.” 

‘^It was not the scourging that made Catha- 
rine saintly, but her desire to be like Christ, 
which was honored, even though she took a 
wrong way to express it. The Lord speaks of his 
chastening, but never of our doing it for our- 
selves. Giving up our will to God honors him 
more than making one’s self ugly and spoiling 
God’s work, as Madame Guyon did when she had 
some teeth taken out to make herself less beau- 
tiful. Bearing the faults of others, and helping 
others bear their burdens, is more Christ-like 
than kissing old sores, as Madame Guyon did to 
show her devotion to her Master,” answered 
Mrs. Lewis, trying to hide with a smile how 
painful speech was. 

“But, dear Mrs. Lewis, don’t you think we 
are greatly indebted to the mystics for thjeir 
writings? You keep Fenelon and a Kempis on 
the bed with your Bible. Do n’t you think 
they will help me too?” Evelyn asked, anxiously. 

“ My darling,” said Mrs. Lewis, “ God had a 
work for those who devoted their entire time to 


The Desired Haven. 


257 


religious meditation, disregarding even the sa- 
cred ties of kindred ; but in this age I believe 
God wants active service, home-making Chris- 
tians. I once heard a young Christian talk of 
reading ‘Spiritual Torments.’ She meant, of 
course, ‘Spiritual Torrents;’ but she was correct 
in the name as far as it affected her. Faber’s 
Hymns are good. This little ‘ Hidden Fife of 
the Soul,’ by Jean Nicholas Grou, is helpful, 
and much of Feiielon ; but most of the old 
writers are confusing to young Christians. Do 
not worry over the deep experiences God sends 
only to a few, and do n’t be always looking at 
your own experience. Anybody would get sick 
always feeling his pulse, and taking his temper- 
ature, and watching for symptoms. The healthy, 
happy Christian does not think of himself 
enough to have very many experiences, except 
as God sends them through sorrow or great joy. 
He is lost in Christ and his work. You see, 
my dear, the danger in the mystics. Persons 
can be as selfish in living in themselves relig- 
iously as in any other way. The Bible is the 
best book to study every day.” 

This all meant much to Evelyn, who had a 
tendency to self-crucifixion to atone for years of 
indifference, and whose natural disposition was 
anything but joyful and self-forgetting. She 
knew even on a sick-bed Mrs. Lewis found con- 
17 


258 


Corner Work. 


stant ways to live for others, and obtained her 
joyful experience, not through contemplating her 
own shortcomings, and thinking about the en- 
emy of souls, but by constantly forgetting her- 
self and thinking about Christ. Another con- 
versation Evelyn never forgot. 

‘‘Dear,’’ the invalid said, “ I want to talk to 
you about your life-w^ork. I soon must give up 
the little bit of service God was kind enough to 
give me, before the rest of heaven. I know no 
one who can take my place as well as you.” 

“O, Mrs. Lewis!” exclaimed Evelyn, in sur- 
prise, “ when I am so weak and you so strong 
in faith!” 

“All I can claim is, I have tried to love every- 
body and tried to sympathize with every one I 
met. Deprived of my own loved ones and the 
health that might have made me busy with my 
own affairs, I have been able to have ‘a heart at 
leisure from itself to soothe and sympathize.’ 
Now you will not be burdened with house- 
keeping; in your life on the boat or boarding 
you can give yourself up to others more than 
most people. I know, Evvy, yours has been a 
life of suffering, and it always will be, you are 
so frail; but this will make you more sympa- 
thetic and tender with the sufferings of others. 
Mabel has her place ; but she has not the pa- 
tience you will have to listen to long, weary 


The Desired Haven. 


259 


stories, just because it relieves people, especially 
old ones, to talk to a sympathetic listener. You 
know about who will miss me mostly, those 
whom other people are tired of. I want to feel 
sure, when you are here, they will find a friend^ 
and that wherever you go there will be some 
one to love and pity and speak a kind word for 
my sake.” 

“I will try, dear Mrs. Lewis,” and the deli- 
cate young woman felt she had been ordained 
for a heavenly mission as Mrs. Lewis laid her 
thin hand on the bowed head and prayed : 
“Make this young disciple strong in faith, per- 
fect in love. Let Love be her new name, by 
which the angels will know her, then she will 
be a sunbeam in this vale of tears, making rain- 
bows of hope for those who go forth with 
weeping.” 

Evelyn went home with the same feeble step, 
but quickened heart-beats. She might not have 
a home in which to make others happy — she 
might not have strength to step side by side 
with busy Church workers ; but she had a beau- 
tiful life-work before her, she could love and 
comfort others. 

These were the last words Evelyn heard 
from the lips that had been so helpful to her. 
The return of strength the invalid had had was 
like the burst of flame that is often the expiring 


26 o 


Corner Work. 


breath of the candle. The next day was one 
of great prostration, and the next one of joy 
for the sufferer. She fell awsleep at night in the 
shadow-land, and awoke where there is no 
more night. 

Many tears were shed over the loss of this 
‘‘shut-in” sister. No one said, “It is a good 
thing she is through her trials;” but, “How we 
will miss her! She did not sigh for death, but 
always said she wanted to live as long as she 
could make one person happy. So many could 
have been better spared than Mrs. Lewis.” 

“Everything in town seems stopped to-day 
on account of a funeral,” a commercial traveler 
said, standing at the door of the village hotel, 
two days later. “ Even the school-children have 
passed with wreaths with paper flowers in them, 
and the factory and mill hands are out, with a 
bit of black ribbon in their button-holes. I 
can’t get the store-keepers to listen to business, 
and all the country people are in. See what a 
procession went to the cemetery. Some rich 
man. I’ll be bound.” 

“No,” answered Pat, the hotel man-of-all- 
work, “it’s a woman.” 

“A rich one, then,” said the traveler. 

“No, middling poor,” was the answer. 

“Well, young and beautiful,” asked the 
stranger, with interest. 


The Desired Haven, 


261 


‘‘No, getting along in years, and never hand- 
some,’^ was the answer. 

“I suppose, then, lots of relations to get up 
this show,” continued the business man. 

“No, sir; none, hardly. She loved every- 
body, and everybody loved her. That ’s all, sir. 
The children always felt free to run in after 
school for a drink or a piece, you know, or to 
have her fix a hurt finger. The women could 
always go there for a pattern or a receipt, or ad- 
vice about the baby, or just to talk over their 
worries, as some women will. The mill-hands 
always had help from her if anybody was out 
of w^ork or sick or hurt. She ’d buried her 
husband and children, and some way knew 
how to cheer up folks, not making them stop 
grieving, but be reasonable over it, and live for 
those who was left. When our Bennie was 
drowned I thought mother ’d go crazy, till Mrs. 
Lewis got hold of her. She was too poorly to 
wori: much; but she loved folks, sir; that was 
ally” and the rough man moved away to hide 
the tears that he could not keep back. 

The stranger turned and followed the long 
procession, touched to the heart, and wishing he 
had some of the love-power this good woman pos- 
sessed. He saw the plain coffin was covered with 
flowers, not only the handsome designs Evelyn 
and Bertha had sent, but blossoms picked from 


262 


Corner Work, 


cherished window-plants or found by children 
in sheltered places in the woods — early violets, 
snow-drops, and frail anemones, spring’s tribute 
to the gentle soul that loved flowers. The grave 
was lined with evergreens, making the burial 
less cheerless than usual. 

The stranger turned away, tears of sympathy 
in his own eyes, resolved to live a better life, 
and be worthy of regret when he, too, must be 
laid away to rest. 



GHflPTEt^ XXIV. 

THE CONVENTION. 

T was early in April before the ar- 
rangements for the Young People’s 
Convention were completed. Invita- 
tions, printed and written, had been 
sent to neighboring Churches, many of whom 
had no organized work among the young. 
Other. denominations were invited, and a cordial 
welcome given to all the Christian Endeavor 
Societies in the county. Several ministers 
had promised to come and assist, and then 
carry home the Epworth League banner. A 
varied program, followed by a reception, with 
refreshments, was to open the Convention. 
After the exercises the next day, there was to 
be a boat-ride, on a little boat that had been se- 
cured, and that evening Mr. Frank Hays, of 
Chicago, was to give the address of the Conven- 

263 



264 


Corner Work, 


tion, on “True Success.” Mr. Hays had been 
discovered as an eloquent speaker, and was hav- 
ing as many calls as his business engagements 
would allow. He was expected on the Wednes- 
day morning stage, which connected with the 
night express. Tuesday afternoon, young people 
came flocking in from every direction by boat, 
stage, and farm-wagons. Vernon is noted for 
its hospitality, and as all the best homes were 
offered, regardless of Church connections, every 
one who came was entertained as a welcome 
and honored guest. 

The first meeting was a great success. The 
church was tastefully decorated, and the “Pan- 
sies” were the pretty ushers to seat the people. 
Bertha had taken special care with the music, 
and it was excellent. There were several short, 
inspiring talks by the visiting ministers, inter- 
spersed with music and several spicy recitations. 
The “Juniors” gave the beautiful, old-fashioned 
“rainbow” in closing, and Mr. Tindley saw to it 
the exercises were not too long. The social 
that followed was delightful, not as much be- 
cause of the dainty refreshments as for the 
good cheer with which old acquaintances were 
renewed and new ones made. The Vernon 
brass band enlivened the reception with fine 
music. Every one was having such a good 
time, Mr. Eindley was obliged to call for the 


The Contention. 


265 


doxology and dismiss the assembly, for fear, he 
said, ‘‘too late an hour might prevent some one 
from reaching the early morning consecration 
meeting the next day.” 

Mabel was having her spring vacation, so 
she could attend every meeting. She entered 
heartily into the solemn consecration service ; 
but her mind wandered during the first paper, 
“Why Organize?” She did not know, when the 
young man sat down, whether he advocated 
continuing or abolishing Young People’s Socie- 
ties ; for while her bright eyes were fixed in- 
tently on the speaker, her ears were listening for 
the rumble of the stage which was to bring the 
speaker of the evening. At last it came, and 
Mabel slipped out during the singing of a verse 
between the speakers. She hesitated about go- 
ing out to welcome the young man; but she 
said to herself: “How silly not to go, when he 
is to be entertained at our house !” 

“He has not come,” Mr. lyindley said, who 
had stepped out before her. “I’ll run over to 
the hotel and see if the train is late.” 

“ I must slip over home a moment, and see 
that Tillie does not spoil the dinner,” Mabel 
said, feeling her pastor’s keen eyes were regard- 
ing her a little too closely. 

In a few moments Mr. Lindley stopped at 
the Elder home on his way to the church. 


266 


Corner Work. 


‘‘There is bad news, but you had better 
know it, Mabel,’’ he said, gently. “ There has 
been an accident — a very serious one — with the 
night express. I have telegraphed, and will let 
you know as soon as I get an answer. Frank is 
like a brother to us all; but I don’t believe any- 
thing has happened to that noble fellow. I 
must look around for a speaker for the evening, 
in case he did not leave Chicago.” 

“ He would have telegraphed,” Mabel began, 
and then turned abruptly into the house. She 
did not know her pastor suspected this young 
man, “who was like a brother,” was more than 
that to her. 

The day passed slowly for some anxious 
hearts. The telegrams announced Mr. Hays 
had been on the train, but could not be found, 
and had not been identified among the killed 
and wounded. This uncertainty cast a shadow 
over the pleasing program which was hardly 
dispelled on the boat, gliding between green 
hills or willow-fringed banks, with blooming 
orchards just above. Mabel excused herself 
from the boat-ride, glad Tillie needed help in the 
kitchen. As Bertha had no help, Mabel insisted 
that she bring her guests to the Elder home 
for supper. Everything was in readiness for the 
hungry young people when they came in. They 
soon forgot everything but the good time they 


The Convention, 


267 


had had on the river and the tempting supper 
before them. Mabel was the first one who 
heard a vigorous barking by Hero at the front 
gate. 

“That^s Roy. He has concluded to spend 
his vacation home. Hero does not give that 
yelp of joy for any one else,’’ Mabel said, set- 
ting down her plate of hot biscuits and running 
out the side door. 

It was not her brother; but Mabel forgot 
that as she flew down the path, and, I am 
obliged to confess it, right into a pair of out- 
stretched arms. 

“O, Frank,” she gasped, ‘‘I’ve had such a 
terrible day. I thought you were killed !” 

“But I am not;” and here the young man 
gave the young lady who had written she would 
always be a “ sister ” his first “ brotherly ” 
greeting. 

This brought Mabel to her senses, and she 
slipped away, trying to hide some tears that 
had come unbidden. It was no use, so she 
laughed as she said : 

“ I can’t help being glad you are safe, be- 
cause — because you are on the program to- 
night.” 

“ That is reason enough, since it makes you 
cry for joy over my coming,” said Frank, fol- 
lowing Mabel, but not relinquishing the hand 


268 


Corner Work, 


she had given him at the gate. No one had 
left the table, so Mabel felt her loss of self-pos- 
session would not be a subject of comment, and 
under cover of the joyful welcome Frank re- 
ceived, she slipped off to the kitchen to see 
there was hot coffee to serve with the dessert. 

“Tell us all about it, quick,’’ said Bertha, 
when room had been made at the table for an- 
other chair. 

“My sleeper went over, too, and I got a few 
bruises ; but in our car no one was killed, and 
we escaped before the fire. I had to help sev- 
eral hours with the wounded. When I could do 
no more, I walked on to the next station and 
telegraphed to you, Lindley. I missed the day- 
express. It was detained, of course, on account 
of the wreck ; so the best I could do was to take 
a freight. We were side-tracked some, but at 
last reached our, or rather my, destination. I 
hired a boy with a fast horse to bring me over, 
and here I am, dusty, tired, and hungry, but full 
of enthusiasm over young people’s work, Lind- 
ley. If being thrown over, jolting over your 
rough railroad in a cattle-car, and then dumped 
up and down in your mud-holes, hasn’t stirred 
me up, nothing will.” 

He did not say there were other reasons why 
he was in such a happy state of mind; but the 
young lady who was listening just inside the 


The Convention. 


269 


kitchen door was quite sure there would be a 
good evening address. The accident and delay 
of the speaker had been the talk of the town, 
and his arrival spread like wildfire, and the 
church was so crowded eVen standing room was 
at a premium. Bertha sang as never before, 
and Mr. Lindley prayed with such feeling every 
soul was thrilled. 

The speaker was received with loud applause, 
the audience being compelled to make some 
demonstration of joy over his narrow escape 
from death. He first gave a humorous account 
of the last part of his journey, then a thrilling 
one of the terrible scene of the early morning 
wreck. He dwelt for a moment on the danger 
of accidents in this world, but the safety in 
Christ — the soul safety, which was best of all. 
Vernon had heard more celebrated speakers; 
but the earnest, heart-felt words of this young 
worker, as he pictured what true success was, 
left a lasting impression on those who heard 
him. More than one young heart was quickened 
to desire a life of service, and to strive for a 
crown that would not have to be laid aside 
with death, but would grow brighter through 
eternity. 

The evening was concluded by that pretty 
“Bringing in the sheaves.’’ The little girls 
came up the aisle singing, “ Bringing in the 


270 


Corner Work. • 


sheaves,” and when they had recited appropriate 
Bible selections and verses, they stacked their 
sheaves and stood around them, while the min- 
ister pronounced the benediction. 

Mabel was so busy trying to find seats for 
every one, she at last had to sit on the gallery- 
steps, out of sight, but where she could watch 
the speaker’s face ; and what her thoughts were 
it is hardly fair to tell. 

The next morning there was a hurrying off 
of young people, or old people with young 
hearts, all with new ideas and gladdened hearts, 
while those who remained had pleasant memo- 
ries and renewed zeal. 

Mr. Hays accepted everybody’s invitation to 
stay and rest a few days. Mabel had been so 
busy she had hardly spoken to him after the 
first enthusiastic greeting; but he seemed per- 
fectly contented, perhaps thinking escaping from 
a terrible death happiness enough. The after- 
noon after the Convention the mail brought a 
letter from Aunt Mary Jane, which, as usual, 
was read aloud. 

“Ellen Claire died last week,” she wrote. 
“ I feel it has been a privilege to do what I 
could for such a sufferer; but now that work is 
done. I ’m getting too old to want to live alone 
again, and my heart goes out to you children as 
if you were my own flesh and blood. I ’ve got 


The Convention. 


271 


a cliance to sell my farm, and, if it is agreeable, 
I would like to make my home with you. I will 
take care of everything. You Ve had too much 
for young shoulders, Mabel, and now you can do 
whatever the Lord, in his providence, seems to 
call you to.’’ 

Here Mabel betrayed herself a little by a 
deepening color; but not lifting her eyes from 
the letter, she missed several mischievous 
glances. 

“I have seen Rose,” the letter went on. 
‘‘ She ’s contented and happy in her work, and 
the doctor says he never saw a better nurse for 
little children. You would n’t know that once 
stuck-up Mrs. Everts, who lives in New York 
now, so as to make her husband a home while 
his work is here. She is certainly one of the 
Lord’s own, though I think she will spoil her 
little girl baby, she loves her so. As soon as I 
get things fixed, and visit father’s and mother’s 
graves, I ’ll come for good, if you all want your 
lonely old Aunt Mary Jane.” 

“Want her!” cried Mr. Elder; “she’s a sun- 
beam and a steam-engine combined. I ask 
nothing better than to have Aunt Mary Jane at 
the helm. I hope she ’ll teach Tillie how to 
make a decent pie.” 

“ I think Mabel is as good a housekeeper as 
aunt could be,” spoke up Evelyn, who now 


272 


Corner Work. 


liked to hear Mabel praised as much as she once 
disliked it. 

“ No, I am not,” acknowledged Mabel. ‘‘She 
has had so much more experience, and gives 
her whole time, while I have to depend on a 
hired girl, seeing to things after school. The 
children do well with me ; but they look up 
more to Aunt Mary Jane as one having author- 
ity. We need her here.” 

“O, we need both of you,” spoke up her 
father, while the visitor looked as if he did not 
agree with him. 

“I am so glad to hear about Rose and Mrs. 
Everts ; and from Christie’s letters it is plain 
she is a success,” said Mabel. 

“ I had not heard how her teacher’s examina- 
tion turned out,” said Frank. 

“ She passed nicely,” answered Mabel. “She 
got a first-grade certificate, and went home and 
has begun her school, and is perfectly happy to 
be at home with her family, and be able to help 
carry on some work she started last summer. 
Sometime she hopes to finish in a normal school. 
I expect great things of our Christie.” 

“I am so rejoiced over Roy,” Frank said. 
“-He is showing at college that a student can 
be a devoted, soul-winning Christian, and lead 
his class. Sometimes Christian young men are 
not ambitious students, and that weakens their 


The Convention, • 273 

influence with the bright, studious young fel- 
lows.’’ 

After this speech Mr. Hays disappeared, and 
Tillie called Mabel to help her out of some dif- 
ficulty, as was her wont when Mabel was espe- 
cially enjoying the parlor. Mr. Elder went off 
for his belated nap, and Evelyn for a needed 
rest. By the time Mabel returned to the parlor 
Frank was waiting at the front door for her. 

“I couldn’t find anything but that old hack,” 
he said, laughing, ‘‘at least at the first place I 
saw. I must get off to Chicago to-morrow, and 
there ’s time yet this afternoon for you to show 
me that water-fall on the River Road you’ve 
spoken of so often.” 

Frank refused to listen to any excuses about 
“not having time,” and they were soon winding 
along on the picturesque River Road. 

“It was providential Aunt Mary Jane’s letter 
came this morning, bless her,” began the young 
man, as soon as they were well started. “ I had 
thirty-nine arguments ready to prove why you 
are needed more in the suburbs of Chicago than 
in peaceful Vernon. But now nothing remains 
but to see if you approve of this style of a cot- 
tage,” and the happy young man took out a 
paper and spread it on his knee, at the same 
time letting his horse plunge into a mud-hole 
that almost ingulfed horse, riders, and all. 

18 


274 


Corner Work. 


‘‘O, Frank, we never get out of this rut!’’ 
cried Mabel. 

‘‘It will do the horse good to rest anyway 
while we settle our plans. You see, Mabel, I’m 
a poor man in one sense. I ’ve used all my 
capital in my business and buildings. I thought 
you would rather have a cozy little home a few 
years, and let me make comfortable little homes 
for our workmen, and carry out my plans for a 
library and chapel, rather than spend it all on 
ourselves in setting up in style. Would n’t you?” 

“ I should think any one would,” was Ma- 
bel’s guarded answer. 

“And I thought you wouldn’t mind a plain 
gold ring instead of the diamond you deserve, 
and a little trip to Bay View instead of a trip 
to Europe, which would run us in debt. If God 
prospers us in the future, as in the past, we will 
visit the Old World together before many years. 
After all, these things amount to very little, 
compared to the happiness of living for each 
other, and working for God. Do n’t you think 
so?” he asked, eagerly. 

“Yes, if I were going to marry, I would feel 
just so,” answered Mabel. 

“If you were going to marry, Mabel! What 
do you mean?” gasped the young man. 

“No one has ever asked me to marry in my 
life,” answered Mabel, roguishly. 


The Convention. 


275 


‘‘ O, why, you know very well what I mean. 
You Ve known since New-Year’s you had the 
refusal of me, and since your welcome yester- 
day what few fears I had have vanished. But 
you shall not marry even me without having 
some one propose to you. Will you be my 
wife? Is that right?” 

‘‘I believe something is said about never 
having loved before,” answered Mabel, being 
in a teasing frame quite unusual to her. 

“ Have n’t time, ma’am. Remember, I ’m a 
Chicago man. Now help me with this plan^ 
Mabel mine,” replied the young man, taking 
more time than was necessary in readjusting the 
plan, and Mabel was soon busy suggesting 
closets and verandas, and quite delighted with 
her future home, having forgotten to answer, in 
so many words, the definite question she had de- 
manded. 

‘‘I want your help in the workingmen’s cot- 
tages, because I shall share the profits, and I 
want to encourage my men to buy homes; so 
we want these cheap little houses as complete 
as we can afford to make them.” 

“And perhaps later, when the town grows, 
we can have Edwin and Bertha with us for 
some years,” said Mabel, eagerly. 

“Yes, I have thought of that, and Edwin is 
willing, if it can be arranged. They are just 


Corner Work, 


^76 

the people to start a Church, even if they are a 
little sentimental.’’ 

Mabel laughed, and then they began to talk 
again earnestly of their work, how the new 
home and little settlement should be dedicated 
to God, and how their motto would be, “ Look 
up and lift up.” 

The old horse had done his best to struggle 
out of the mire; but having no encouragement 
from his driver, had stretched his neck under 
the shade of the willows and gone asleep. The 
young people were so absorbed in each other, 
there is no telling when they would have real- 
• ized their situation had not a farmer, with a load 
of wood, come along. He could not get by the 
buggy, and anyway, in Southern Indiana people 
are too big-hearted to leave a fellow-traveler in 
distress. 

“Hello, can’t budge, can you? If you’d 
steered a little gee you’d missed that big 
rut; but I’ll help you out,” said the farmer, 
heartily, after giving the “howdydo” and friendly 
nod with which strangers in those parts greet 
one another. 

“Thank you, sir; we are in trouble,” an- 
swered the young man, just aroused to the situ- 
ation. He sprang out, and not being accus- 
tomed to such a plight, floundered around a 
little helplessly himself. With a good deal of 


The Convention. 277 

laughter, both young man and horse were 
helped to solid ground. 

“I ’low you’re from the city,” laughed the 
farmer. “Back in the clay roads, I swan, you’d 
go clean under. Here we have sand, so there 
ain’t many such ruts.” 

Some way the horse got turned homeward; 
but no one objected. 

“You made the falls and back quick for 
spring roads,” Mr. Elder said, as the young peo- 
ple entered. “Was it all you expected, Mr. 
Hays?” 

“Yes, and more. I don’t deserve such hap- 
piness. All the fall we saw was one into a 
mud-hole ; but Mabel has promised to be my 
wife, if you are willing.” 

“I don’t believe I could give her to any one 
better,” said the old man, taking the hand of 
his favorite child. “God bless you both! Love 
and work. That is the secret of happiness 
here, and, I expect, will be the joy of heaven.” 


(Enb. 



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THE STORY OF A WONDERFUL LIFE. 

Pen-pictures of the most Interesting Incidents in the Life of 
the Celebrated John Wesley. Adapted to the Tastes and Wants 
of Young People. 

i2mo. j /5 pages. Illustrated, go cents. 


CRANSTTON & CXJRXS, Publishers, 
CINCINNATI. CHICAGO. ST. LOUIS. 


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WOMEN OF THE ORIENT. An Account of the Religious, 
Intellectual, and Social Condition of Women in Japan, 
China, India, Egypt, Syria, and Turkey. 

BY ROSS C. HOUGHTON, A. M. 
i2mo. Cloth, 4g6 pages. Illustrated. $1.20. 

While my purpose has been to write a book which shall be 
of interest to the general reader, I trust the following pages 
will be of especial value to those Christian ladies of Amenca 
whose sympathies and efforts are enlisted in the work of 
elevating Oriental women through the power of Christian 
education.— from Author's Preface, 

CHINA AND JAPAN. A Record of Observations made 
during a Residence of Several Years in China, and a Tour 
of Official Visitation to the Missions of Both Countries. 

BY I. W. WILEY, D. D., 

Late one of the Bishops of the Methodist Episcopal Church. 

1 2mo, Cloth, ^48 pages. Illustrated, go cents. 

If the book will serve to quicken the zeal of Christians 
in the work of evangelizing these great empires, and will have 
some influence in getting the people of America to understand 
better both our political and Christian relations toward these 
neighbors, whose empires are only separated from our western 
borders by a steam-ferry, the writer will be compensated for 
all his labor in giving these facts to the public. — Extract from 
Preface. 

INDIA AND BRITISH BURMAH. A Hand-book. 

BY W. E. ROBBINS, Missionary. 
i6mo. Cloth. 285 pages. Illustrated, 60 cents. 

This is not a guide-book for travelers, but an attempt to 
answer in as few words as possible the many questions con- 
cerning India which have been asked the author during his ten 
years of labor in this country, and to put the result in such a 
small and cheap form as to be accessible to the multitudes 
whose interest in this great empire is constantly increasing. — 
Preface. 


CRA1SIST:'0N <& CURTS, Rublishhrs, 

CINCINNATI, CHICAGO. ST. LOUIS. 


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